


love is a polaroid

by holtzbabe



Series: love is a polaroid [1]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Beaches, Excessive pet names, F/F, Fireworks, Ghosts, Lots of Secrets, MCKINNON - Freeform, Motorcycles, Museums, Road Trips, Secrets, Shenanigans, Snapchat, Swiss Army Knives, TW: Vomiting, Tattoos, Treehouses, Waffles, Ziplining, additional tags as the story unfolds, all the headcanons, and boy is a story ever going to unfold, and discussion of mental health, bed sharing, cheesesteaks, chicken nuggets, emergency Target runs, formal wear, fountains (of love?), happy endings, lots of selfies, next stop angst town USA, trigger warnings for the word crazy as a slur, tw: abusive relationships, tw: emotionally abusive parents, tw: psychiatric wards, tw: semi-witnessed car accident, tw: therapists who should have their registration revoked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:52:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzbabe/pseuds/holtzbabe
Summary: Erin and Holtzmann take a road trip of self-discovery.





	1. it comes back to you

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo! New fic! I told myself I wasn't going to post the first chapter until I was done writing it all (in order to make sure the whole thing is cohesive bc I've been writing this fic non-chronologically) but then I had a breakthrough with the structure and now I'm weaving in songs from Imagine Dragon's album Smoke and Mirrors to (HOPEFULLY) bring everything together. I'll be posting links to each chapter's song if you want to listen, but it's definitely not required. Enjoy!

 

[it comes back to you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKkkIxSQ9wE)

 

_all the things that worry me_

_all the things you don’t believe_

_I’ve been told just what to do_

_where to look and point my view_

The first time Holtz calls herself crazy, they’re above Zhu’s trying to make sense of the bits and pieces left over from the explosion in the subway. Holtzmann scoffs from her place at the other table, where she’s slouched down so far in her chair that she’s nearly falling off it, her boots up among the wires and tools and parts that she’s working with.

“And they used a chromium alloy for the hull. I would’ve used aluminum, but I’m crazy.”

And Erin is shocked, because she certainly wouldn’t deny that the engineer has an air of eccentricity to her, especially with those bug-eyed goggles and that smile that’s all top teeth, but she would never, _ever_ call her crazy. Erin spent the better portion of her life being called crazy by everyone from her parents to her classmates, and she would never in a million years intentionally self-identify that way, let alone the way Holtz just did, with _pride._

Crazy sits on an overstuffed chair where her legs don't reach the ground while Dr. Morris says to her parents that she’s “experiencing paranoid hallucinations that could lead to psychotic behavior if encouraged,” as if she isn't right there in the room. Crazy eats her school lunch in a stall in the second floor bathroom, the one so far from the cafeteria that it's always deserted at lunchtime. Crazy doesn't talk for fear of having her words twisted.

Erin spent so much time being called crazy that she started to wonder if she actually was. For a long time, it was all she cared about. In fact, one of the very first things she did after they saw the ghost at the Aldridge Mansion was throw her arms around Abby and say, “We were right! We weren’t crazy!”

So she’s completely baffled as to why Holtzmann would willingly call herself a name that has haunted Erin for so many years.

 

That’s only the first time. Holtz calls herself or one of her inventions crazy at least biweekly, and it becomes less jarring each time. The word means something different, something more positive, when applied to Holtz, because Erin wouldn’t change a single part of her.

Everything is fine until about ten months after the near-apocalypse.

Erin has just had a massive breakthrough and worked out the math for a theory that would undoubtedly change the way they interact with paranormal entities forever. She excitedly calls out the names of her fellow Ghostbusters and they gather around, eager to see what she’s done. She explains her work, and they catch on fast.

“We’ve been working on that corporealization theory since we were _kids,_ Erin! Are you serious!”

Patty’s mouth hangs open. “You mean we could make it so ghosts can’t do…well, ‘ghosty’ shit? That would be amazing. Imagine how much easier it would be to catch them if they couldn’t go through walls or fly or…damn, Erin, you’ve outdone yourself!”

Erin laughs. “Holtz, what do you think? Can you build this?”

Holtz grins widely. “Hell yeah! Patty’s right; this is next-level awesomeness, Erin. You’re just as crazy as I am. I love it.”

Erin stiffens in her chair. She _knows_ Holtz isn’t trying to insult her, but she’ll never not hear that word applied to her and immediately feel like crying.

She doesn’t want the others to know that she’s _still_ bothered by it, and she can already feel tears pricking at her eyes, so she stands abruptly and blabbers some sort of excuse and then runs. She makes it up to the second-floor bathroom and locks herself in there, then sits down on the closed toilet lid and lets herself cry. She can hear muffled voices downstairs. They’re probably talking about her.

She’s not sure how long she sits there, but after a while there’s a knock on the door.

“I know you’re in there, Erin.”

Of course it’s Holtz.

The doorknob rattles. “Unlock the door and let me in. Abby and Patty are gone getting lunch.”

Erin wipes at her eyes and stands, then crosses the small room to unlock and open the door. Holtz is standing there with her hands shoved in the pockets of her shorts.

“Was it something I said?” Holtz’s voice is pained.

Erin shakes her head, then bites her lip. “Kind of.”

With a solemn expression, Holtz gestures for Erin to follow her. “Let’s go sit.”

They go sit in the pair of high-backed velvet armchairs that Holtz bought specifically so she could plot inventions in them like a supervillain.

“Now,” Holtz says, her fingers steepled, “tell me what’s wrong, because I won’t be able to guess and this’ll save time.”

Erin shifts and frowns at the chafe of the velvet on her sweaty bare legs. These chairs are impractical for summer—they’re quickly finding that the firehouse has poor ventilation. It’s been on their to-do list to beg the mayor’s office for money to install air-conditioning.

“You called me crazy,” Erin says quietly. She hazards a glance over to Holtz, who’s sitting cross-legged and sideways so she’s facing Erin.

She looks puzzled. “And you’re upset? Crazy isn’t a bad thing, Erin.”

“I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way, but I’ll always hear it like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not crazy and I don’t want to be.”

“All the best geniuses are crazy, though. All the best artists. The very act of creating—thinking of things nobody else has—is crazy.”

“That’s not what that word means to me.”

“What does it mean to you?”

“Being not in your right mind. Making things up for attention. Seeing and hearing things that aren’t there.”

“Well, that’s…one definition,” Holtz says carefully, “but you still didn’t say anywhere in there that it’s a bad thing to be like that.”

Erin winces. “I realize how bad that sounded. I don’t mean that it’s bad in general…just for me, I…” She pauses to try and sort her words. “My whole life people called me crazy because they thought I was either making up the ghost for attention or I was hallucinating it. But I knew that the ghost was real and I wasn’t making it up _or_ hallucinating it, therefore I wasn’t crazy.”

Erin’s really rambling now. “I swear I have nothing but love and respect for people with mental illnesses, especially the ones that are most stigmatized by society. I met so many amazing people when I—” she breaks off. No, that’s not something she wants to share today. She inhales and tries to get back on track. “I know it’s irrational for me to be set off like that, but the word crazy just stirs up a lot of emotions for me. It reminds me of a bad time in my life and I think I’m always going to resist it.”

Holtz nods slowly. “That’s fair. I understand what it feels like to be reminded of your past like that.”

She does? Erin wants to question that, but Holtz is already moving on.

“Have you thought about how that word can have a lot of other meanings too?”

“I know it does…I just never think of them.”

Holtz is silent, considering that. “Well, I’m crazy…does it have negative connotations when applied to me?”

Erin shakes her head. “It means something completely different. Wild, genius, absurd, goofy, awesome, perfectly wacky…” She needs to shut up before she tips Holtz off about her little crush.

Holtz cocks her head. “But when I called you crazy, your mind still went to all your negative associations?”

“Yes. I’m pretty sure it always will.”

“Do you think that other definition can apply to you?”

Erin laughs. “Me? Wild?”

“Why not?”

“You’ve met me, right?”

“Once or twice, home slice.” Holtz runs her tongue along her top teeth, her chin jutting out. “I wonder if…”

Erin waits for Holtz to complete that thought, but she’s staring up at the ceiling and clearly deep in thought.

“You wonder what?” Erin prompts.

“I’m just…thinking. There any way I could have some alone time for a few minutes?”

Erin hesitates. “Okay…?”

Holtz must hear the unease in Erin’s voice, because she snaps out of her trance. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the truth, Erin,” she says sincerely, not breaking eye contact. “I know it can’t be easy talking about that, and I want you to know that I’m very sorry for calling you crazy. I never would’ve said that if I knew the weight it carried.”

Erin’s surprised by that. “Thank you, Holtz. I appreciate that.”

Holtz gives her a reassuring smile, then is back into her deep musing.

Erin stays for a moment or two, then resigns and heads downstairs. Who knows what Holtzmann is up to.

Abby and Patty are still gone, but Kevin’s at his desk. Erin sits at her own desk and picks up the papers with the math for her new theory. She can’t wait to see the practical applications for it.

It’s less than a minute later that Holtz comes flying down the firepole and strides over to Erin’s desk, which she hops up on (probably crinkling the papers).

“I want to change your default reaction and show you that not only _can_ you be my brand of crazy, but you should strive for it.”

Erin raises her eyebrows. “Um…”

Holtz grins. “Let’s be crazy together. Let’s do something crazy.”

So, she’s back to light-hearted-Holtz. Good to know. Erin can never keep up with Holtz. One minute she’ll be joking, then serious, then back to joking.

“Like what, dye our hair blue? Get a tattoo?”

“I like where your head’s at, Gilbert.”

“I was joking. God. As if I would ever do either of those things.”

“Alriiight, no body mods. Let’s do something else.” Holtz mimes twirling a moustache. “Let’s get on my motorcycle and just drive.”

“Drive? Drive where?”

“Anywhere. That’s part of the fun.”

That might not be horrible. “Maybe…maybe Friday after work we could—”

“Not Friday, Erin, _today_. Right now.”

“Right now?” Erin splutters. “It’s the middle of a work day.”

“And? We’re self employed.”

“We are _not_ self employed. We work for the mayor’s offi—”

“ _Who_ checks in with us at the end of every month for a research report. We’re not exactly gonna get fired for playin’ hooky.”

“Patty and Abby will care.”

“They’re big girls.”

“What if there’s another ghost apocalypse?”

“Erin.” Holtz takes Erin’s face in her hands. “Since we started this, how many ghost apocalypses have there been?”

“One.”

“ _Zero_. We thwarted Rowan’s plans. It’s like it never happened.”

“Holtz, it happened.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that one. One _measly_ little apocalypse in less than a year. It’s almost boring!”

“What if the frequency of ghost apocalypses is one a year? We could be due for one this afternoon!”

Holtz levels a gaze over the rims of her glasses. “How many ghost apocalypses happened before we formed?”

“Zero,” Erin admits. “But that’s only because we _invented_ the science!”

Holtz drops her hands from Erin’s face with a smirk. “Give it a rest, toy chest.”

“Huh?”

“I couldn’t think of a term of endearment that rhymed. Toy chests are good.”

“ _Toy chest_ isn’t a term of endearment.”

“Would you prefer something with the word breast?”

“Holtzmann.”

“Life vest? Birds nest?” Holtz raises an eyebrow. “Undressed?”

“Stop it.”

“Blood test, southwest, Budapest, cardiopulmonary arrest…”

“Unimpressed.”

Holtz’s face lights up. “Hey!”

“Okay, enough of the slam poetry. I need to get back to work.”

“No. We’re going to do something crazy, remember? We’re going to get on my motorcycle and drive.”

“Holtz, you’re sweet for being so concerned, but we can’t.”

“Why not? Give me one real reason that doesn’t have to do with work.”

“I have Zumba tonight.” Erin juts her lip out.

Holtz throws her head back in laughter, then wipes tears from her eyes. “God, I love you.”

Erin’s tummy flutters. Sometimes she thinks Holtzmann might like her back, but she really doesn’t know.

“That’s not a real reason, though. Don’t let Zumba hold you back from your true potential.”

“You’re really suggesting we go get on your motorcycle _right now_ and leave? For how long?”

“Planning directly invalidates the crazy.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.”

“You are?” Holtz says in glee. “Righteous!”

“Did you just say _righteous?_ What year is this?”

“Is this not…the eighties?” Holtz’s mouth drops open. “Has there been a disturbance in the space-time continuum?”

Erin studies her, shaking her head slightly. “Let’s do it,” she says finally.

Holtz blinks. “Wait, for realsies?”

“Yeah. Let’s go. Let’s be…crazy.”

Holtz throws her fists in the air and hoots. Kevin looks their way. Erin shushes her.

“I’ll go lock up the lab,” Holtz says, then disappears up the stairs. A few seconds later, she pokes her head over the hole of the firepole. “ _Lemon zest!_ Why didn’t I think of that one? It’s so snappy!”

Erin wonders if she’s going to regret this.

 

Erin files her work from the day away in her desk. “Kevin, we’re, uh…” She doesn’t know what to say to him actually. “Tell Abby and Patty that…that we went out,” she finishes lamely.

“Sure thing, boss.” Kevin picks his teeth with an unbent paperclip.

Erin winces. She hears the thump of Holtz landing from the firepole and turns to see her strolling over wearing her leather jacket and pants and holding two helmets.

“You’re going to roast in that,” Erin says. The sun’s been beating down all day.

“Road rash is a beast,” Holtz says simply. “Plus, I look cool. You need to change too. I have an extra pair of pants you can wear.”

Erin bites her lips as Holtz hands her a pair of dark pants. She’s going to sweat too. She disappears into her change cubicle to swap out her shorts. When she returns, Holtz appraises her and gives her a thumbs up.

Erin hunts down her coat in her locker and puts it on, then grabs her purse. “So…are we ready to leave?”

“You can’t bring that,” Holtz says.

“What? Why not?”

“No room.”

“I need money, Holtz.”

“Then bring money. You have pockets, don’t you?”

Grumbling, Erin removes her credit card, phone, ID, and a bit of cash and zippers them into her jacket pocket. She takes her sunglasses and rests them on top of her head.

“Okay,” she sighs, “let’s go.”

“Pep up, buttercup.” Holtz salutes to Kevin. “Bye, Kev. See you later.”

 

Outside, Erin eyes the motorcycle warily. Now that she’s face to face with it, it’s a little more daunting. It’s substantially bigger and fancier than the Ecto-2, which got destroyed and sucked into the portal. Holtz exaggerated a little about the necessity of a new one when it was time for their preliminary expense reports for the mayor’s office. There’s no way that a machine of this size and shine is necessary for _any_ profession.

Holtz buckles on her helmet and climbs aboard the motorcycle. The engine roars to life and idles. Holtz pats the seat behind her. “Hop on, my swan.”

“What is _with_ you and the pet names, today?”

“It’s X-Day.”

“What’s that?”

“The end of the world, according to the Church of the SubGenius.”

Erin blinks.

“It’s the day the X-ists descend and destroy the world of glorps,” Holtz adds.

“You’re making words up,” Erin says. “Those aren’t real things.”

“Nah, the Church of the SubGenius is a real thing. Google it.”

“Do you…belong to it?”

“I dabble,” Holtz says. “It’s okay, the real X-Day was supposed to happen in ’98. Now it’s just a chance to celebrate like it’s the end of the world.”

“I still have…so many questions. What does this have to do with the pet names?”

“Oh, absolutely nothing. I just wanted to bring it up and there’s no natural way for it to come up in everyday conversation.” She pats the seat again. “You getting on?”

Erin hesitates, then puts her helmet on. She awkwardly climbs behind Holtz. She knows she needs to put her arms around Holtz to hang on, but the reality of that hadn’t crossed her mind before. This is…awfully close. She gingerly wraps her arms around Holtz’s torso.

“Hold on like you mean it, Gilbert. End of the world won’t mean nothin’ if you get smooshed on the interstate by a semi.”

“That’s very graphic,” Erin says, but she tightens her grip. Holtz smells really good. She’s never been close enough to notice before, but she sure is now. It’s weird.

“Ready?” Holtz revs the engine.

Erin swallows. “I guess.”

“Pick a direction,” Holtz says over her shoulder. “North, south, or west?”

“Why not east?”

“There’s only so far we can go before we run into the ocean.”

“What’s wrong with the ocean? I like the ocean.”

“I do too, but I want to hit at least two states.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Do you have your passport on you?”

“Why would I have my passport? Who brings their passport to work with them? Do _you_ have your passport?”

“I always carry it on me.”

“Where?”

“Up my butt. So, no passport, that means Mexico and Canada are out. You still haven’t picked a direction.”

Mexico and Canada? Who said anything about leaving the country? Just how far does Holtz want to _go?_ Erin thinks fast. “Uhh…south.”

“Excellent choice.”

And then they’re off, screeching into traffic, and Erin’s grip around Holtzmann clenches. “Oh my god,” she shouts.

Holtz just cackles into the wind.

 

_it comes back to you, it comes back to you_

_all the things that you had lost will find their way to you_

_it comes back to you, it comes back to you_

_looking back into the past and I can see it through_

 


	2. the fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE TRIP BEGINS.

[the fall](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MWglxkw1y4)

 

_I don’t know_

_maybe I’m breaking up with myself_

_maybe I’m thinking I should just keep to the things that I’ve been told_

_wait for the colours to turn to gold_

Erin loses track of how long they’ve been driving. It’s kind of freeing to let someone else have complete control. Holtz could drive them wherever she wanted, and Erin would have no way to stop it. She’s starting to get really hungry, though, and she’s not quite sure how to communicate that to Holtz. The engineer isn’t exactly known for remembering meals.

Holtzmann must have mind-reading powers, because shortly after Erin thinks that, they’re exiting off the I-95. All the signs are for Philadelphia. Erin doesn’t travel much so she’s never actually been, despite how relatively close it is.

They pull up by a food truck and Holtz shuts off the bike. It takes Erin a second to release her death grip on Holtz. She climbs off a little clumsily and Holtz follows, and they both remove their helmets.

Holtz grins. “Doing okay back there? Figured we could use some fuel. Both for our tummies and the bike.”

“I’m great,” Erin says. “Have you been here before?”

Holtz looks at the truck. “No, but it’s better that way.”

“I meant to Philadelphia.”

“Ah. Yeah, I’ve been a few times. Have you?”

“No, never.”

They get in the line, which is surprisingly long for almost 2:30pm on a Wednesday. Hopefully that means it’s good. Erin studies the board. “Do you know what you’re getting?”

Holtz looks at her like she’s just said something blasphemous. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking of ordering something that’s _not_ a cheesesteak.”

“Right, I forgot about your cheesesteak… _thing_.”

“Don’t say it like that. My _thing_. If by _thing_ you mean my healthy love of a good cheesesteak, then fine, it’s my _thing_. I can’t believe you forgot. You’re getting one, though, right?”

“Maybe? I—”

“I’m forcing you to try one. There’s no way you’re coming to Philly for the first time and _not_ getting a cheesesteak, even if you _weren’t_ with me.” Holtz shudders.

“Enough with the drama, I’ll—”

“I’ll order for you. You want onions?”

“…Okay.”

They reach the counter. Holtz has to stand on her tiptoes to reach the window. It’s kind of adorable.

“One whiz with and provolone with,” Holtz says to the guy in the truck.

“Was that English?” Erin asks.

Holtz looks at her. “Are you doubting my cheesesteak-ordering abilities?”

Erin holds her hands up. “No, no, of course not.”

When it’s time to pay, she waves away Erin’s wallet. This is notable, because Erin remembers on _several_ occasions having Holtz remind them that paying for her cheesesteaks is a mandatory part of being her friend.

Once they get their sandwiches, Holtz passes Erin the one with provolone. “I figured you wouldn’t be too into Cheez Whiz. Correct?”

Erin pulls a face. “Correct. Thank you.”

They sit on a nearby bench that has just freed up. “Cheers to trying something new,” Holtz says, bringing their sandwiches to clink together. “May our road trip only get crazier.”

Erin tries a bite. It’s better than she thought it would be. It’s probably been a good decade or two since her last cheesesteak. She realizes that Holtz has refrained from digging into her own and is waiting expectantly for Erin’s reaction.

“It’s good,” Erin manages to get out through her full mouth.

A full beam spreads across Holtz’s face, then she takes an enormous bite of her own. “I knew you’d love it,” she says through her own food-stuffed mouth.

They sit there and eat in silence, the sun beating down on them, and Erin would be content to stay right here for a long time.

 

Erin wipes her face off when she’s done. “So, what’s the plan? Is there something you want to go see before we head back?”

“Head _back?_ Home? Now? You call driving to get cheesesteaks a _road trip?_ This is only the beginning!”

“Okay, well…” Erin pulls her phone out from her jacket pocket. “Why don’t we look up fun things to do here, and—”

Holtz snatches the phone out of her hand. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? Give me my phone back!”

“You’re really not good at this. What did I say about planning?”

Erin’s about to answer when her phone starts ringing in Holtz’s hand.

Much to Erin’s dismay, Holtz answers the call and holds the phone to her ear. “Belle’s BDSM Boutique! All our operators are a little tied up right now, but—”

Erin rips the phone from her hand and lifts it to hear laughter on the other end.

“I’m so sorry, I—”

_“That’s what you get for letting Holtzy answer your phone.”_

“Patty?”

_“Where are you? Kevin said you went on a date, but that was_ hours _ago now and like, we don’t want to rush you but we also want to make sure you’re not dead.”_

“He said what?” Erin splutters. “We didn’t…we’re not…”

_“Don’t worry, I’ll hang up now and let you get to it! We’re really happy for you guys! Took ya long en—”_

“Patty! Stop it! We’re in Philadelphia.”

There’s a pause. _“What?”_

“We’re in Philly.”

_“Why?”_

“Uh.” Erin looks at Holtz. “Because.”

_“Are you coming back tonight?”_

“Obviously.”

_“Oh…okay then? Uh…I’ll let you get back to…that.”_ Erin can hear Abby saying something in the background that she can’t make out.

“I swear we’re not on a date,” Erin says.

Holtz’s mouth quirks up.

_“Sure, sure. I guess we’ll probably be gone for the night by the time you get back?”_

“I guess. We’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

_“Right. See you…”_ Patty still sounds dubious as she hangs up and the line goes dead.

Holtz pounces instantly. “What was _that_ all about?”

“Kevin told them we were out on a date,” Erin mutters.

Holtz’s hint of a smile curls into the real deal. “Excellent! Why’d you say we’d see them tomorrow, though?”

“Well, we’re driving back tonight.”

“We are? That’s no fun.”

“Holtz…this was all well and good, but we have to go back to work.”

“Boooooo.”

“That’s what the ghosts will be saying tomorrow if we’re not there,” Erin quips.

“Nice one.”

“Thank you.”

“Seriously, though, why do we have to go back?”

“Are you really asking that question?”

“Yes, I really am. What’s stopping us from continuing on? We haven’t even _seen_ anything.”

“I…I don’t know. What will Abby and Patty think?”

“They’ll think you’re finally letting loose and having fun. Or getting laid. Or both.”

Erin blushes deep red. “ _Holtz._ ”

“What? Kevin started it.”

“Enough.”

“What do you say? You wanna keep this ball rolling?”

“And do what?”

“Anything! We can go anywhere and do anything!”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere. Well, anywhere in the country, because _somebody_ didn’t bring her passport.”

“Well…where do _you_ want to go?”

“Right now?” Holtz drums her leg. “Well, there’s one place I’ve been meaning to stop…”

 

“This is…”

“Crazy?” supplies Holtz.

“A little bit,” Erin murmurs, staring up at the building in front of her. She can’t believe they drove all the way here for this.

“Ready to selfie?”

Erin pulls out her phone and opens the camera, then adjusts it so everything’s in the shot.

“Middle fingers up,” Holtz commands.

Erin snaps the photo, then a second one. She pulls the phone in to take a look. Holtz hovers over, swiping back and forth between the two.

“Second one?” Erin suggests.

“I like that one too. Send it to the others.”

Erin opens up the Ghostbusters group chat and selects the photo, then sends it.

Abby responds a second later.

[6:28pm] Abby: _WTF??? How did you get there??????_

Then Patty.

[6:29pm] Patty: _hahahaha I love you_

Erin pulls open the photo again, taking in their unimpressed expressions, their raised middle fingers, and the White House visible through the fence behind them. Erin turns around to take in the real thing, towering over her.

“How hard do you think it would be to get in?” Holtz says. “We’re VIPs. I wonder if we could meet him under the guise of being fans, then once we’re in, like, fart in his face.”

Erin pulls a face. “You really want to pretend to be fans, even for a second?”

“Fair point. It could be worth it, though. I’d love to take a dump on his desk.”

“ _Holtz._ ”

“Ehh, you’d support me.”

“…Yeah, I would. I’d cover for you.”

Holtz holds up her hand for a high-five. “Teamwork.”

 

They get McDonalds for dinner, which Erin hasn’t had in years, then they head over to see the Lincoln Memorial, which Holtz is inexplicably adamant about visiting.

Erin’s struck by the size of it when they get closer. She’s never been to DC and only seen these things in photos.

“Think I could climb up on it?” Holtz says in Erin’s ear, then honest-to-god takes a step forward like she means it.

Erin catches her elbow. “Absolutely not.”

Holtz spins around with a pout. “You’re no fun.”

“Well, you should’ve picked a better road trip buddy, then.”

Holtz reaches up to pat her on the head. “I like my choices, thanks.”

Erin tries to hide a smile as she turns to admire the Washington Monument across the water.

“What next?” Erin says.

“Well, we could find a place to stay here…or we could keep driving for a bit and find somewhere that’s probably cheaper.”

“Let’s keep driving.” Erin’s starting to finally see the appeal of this, this complete freedom, this see-where-the-wind-takes-you type of thing.

 

The wind, as it turns out, takes them into Virginia. They really need to work out some sort of arm-tapping system for when Erin wants to stop, because she’s not exactly sure when Holtz is planning on stopping for the night. They’ve already passed several signs for accommodations.

Luckily, Erin gets her answer when they pull off at exit 130A in Fredericksburg, and soon after they’re pulling into the parking lot of a Quality Inn just as the sun is starting to set. Holtz kills the engine and removes her helmet.

“This work for you?”

“Sure,” Erin chirps.

They head inside to the front desk, where a young-looking girl with glasses is reading a book.

“Hiya.” Holtz salutes. “We’re looking for a room for one night—wait, one room, right? Or do you want your own?”

“One room’s fine,” Erin says.

Holtz smiles and turns back to the girl. “One room.”

“Great! One bed or two?” the girl asks.

“Two,” Holtz says immediately, and Erin can’t help but feel a little disappointed. She wouldn’t exactly object to sharing a bed with Holtz if need be. Or even if need…not be.

Erin steps forward and takes out her wallet, sliding her credit card across the desk. “I’ve got tonight,” she says.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Maybe you can get tomorrow night?”

Holtz beams at that.

Soon, they’re heading upstairs to their room. Erin unlocks the door and they step inside. It’s not the worst hotel room she’s ever seen.

She takes a seat gingerly on the edge of the gold bedspread, which looks a little questionable.

“I just realized what feels so weird about this,” she says. “We don’t have any stuff with us. No pajamas, no toiletries…”

“And? Sleep naked! Brush your teeth with your finger! Or, if you wanna get really fancy, hotels always have spare toiletries.”

“Holtzmann, I’m not sleeping naked in that bed. God knows what’s been in it.”

“Alriiight. We can go find you pajamas. There’s gotta be a store open somewhere.”

 

They pull into a spot outside the Target that the front desk girl directed them to.

“I can’t believe this shopping complex is called Central Park,” Erin says as they cross the parking lot.

“How’s that for crazy, huh?” Holtz elbows her.

They get a shopping cart and Holtz rides on the back of it down the store in the direction of the clothing section.

“Holtz,” Erin hisses after her, running to keep up.

The store is almost deserted at the 9:00pm hour. In the clothing section, Erin selects a cheap matching grey shorts and shirt pajama set, and Holtz selects a long-sleeved floral nightie. Erin side-eyes it. She’s almost certain Holtz picked it to get a rise out of her.

“That’s what you’re getting?”

“What’s wrong with this?”

“Well, you’ll be warm, for one…”

“And for two?”

“It’s kind of…frumpy.”

“Hmmmmm, in that case…” Holtz hangs the nightie back up and picks out [the same set that Erin’s holding](http://target.scene7.com/is/image/Target/51689516?wid=3000&qlt=70&fmt=pjpeg). “What about this?”

“Holtz.”

“Looks comfy. I like how I could wear it to an emergency business meeting in the morning.”

“Put that down.”

“I like it. I’m buying it.”

“Holtzmann.”

“What else do we need?”

Erin sighs loudly. “Underwear?”

“On it!” Holtz snatches Erin’s pajamas and tosses them into the cart with her own, then zooms away, leaving Erin to run after her again.

When she gets to the underwear section, Holtz is holding up a tiny pink thing between her thumbs.

Erin ignores her and goes to where the packaged underwear is, selecting the cheapest ones (even though yes, she’s aware that the white cotton briefs are extremely granny-panty-esque).

Holtz snaps the thong back into its bin when Erin approaches. “Got enough for me in there?”

“It’s a six pack,” Erin says, throwing them into the cart.

“Score.”

“I want toiletries too.”

“I told you, the hotel will have some.”

“I don’t care. I’m buying some.”

“Fiiiine.”

They head to that section of the store, where Erin picks out a toothbrush, a travel-sized tube of toothpaste, and a container of floss.

“Can’t you skip the floss for a night?” Holtz raises her eyebrow.

“Holtzmann, oral hygiene is very important.”

Holtz looks like she’s holding back laughter. “That it is.”

“Maybe I should get some mouthwash too,” Erin muses, staring down at the travel-sized bottles.

Holtz actually does laugh at that. “Yeah, Erin, you should do that. You could get some nail clippers while you’re at it.”

“What?” It sounds like there’s a joke that Erin’s missing. She ignores it and moves on. “Are you getting a toothbrush?”

“I’ll get one from the hotel.”

“I’m buying you one.”

“I can afford a toothbrush, Erin.”

Erin swaps out the one she picked for a value pack of two and throws it in with the rest of the stuff. “Is that all we need?”

“Well, there’s one more essential,” Holtz says.

“What’s that? Oh, a hair brush.”

“That’s what fingers are for. I’m talking about _snacks_ , Gilbert.”

“I’m buying a hair brush. Or at least a comb.”

“Great. While you do that, I’m going to go stock up on what we really need.”

With that, Holtz disappears with the cart.

Erin selects a simple comb that’ll do the job. Then she remembers about deodorant and grabs two of those too. She takes off in the direction of the snack aisle where she finds Holtz in front of the chips, with no less than three bags and a can of Pringles already in the cart, deeply absorbed in the wall of salty snacks in front of her.

“Are you going to eat all of those tonight?” Erin says.

Holtz jumps, then looks down at her selection. “Probably.”

“It’s…a lot.”

“I know what I’m about.”

Erin shakes her head.

 

Back in their hotel room, Erin changes out of her clothes and into the pajamas she bought, using the Swiss Army knife she got from Holtz to cut off the tags. She spots Holtz watching her use it with a smug expression on her face.

Erin settles into bed once she’s changed and turns on the TV while Holtz disappears to change. A minute later, Holtz wanders back in wearing only a sports bra and one of the pairs of granny panties, and Erin nearly chokes on her own saliva. How on earth can she manage to make _that_ look hot?

She must feel Erin staring, because she throws a wink her way.

“Are you planning on putting clothes on?” Erin splutters.

“Is that really necessary?” Holtz whines. “It’s hot.”

“Well…yeah…I’m not going to deny that, but I’d still rather you put clothes on.”

Holtz raises her eyebrows to the ceiling. “I meant the temperature.”

Erin coughs. “Right…yes…so did I.”

Holtz snorts. “Don’t worry, I’ll go cover up so you don’t have a heart attack.”

“I—” Erin begins, then realizes she doesn’t really have anything to say to that.

Holtz is still laughing as she heads back to the bathroom. When she gets back, she’s wearing the same pajamas as Erin, except apparently she didn’t pick the right size in her hurry to be witty, so she’s absolutely _swimming_ in them. She has to hold up the shorts.

“Eriiiin. Switch with me.”

Erin muffles her laughter into her elbow. “Not a chance. Serves you right.”

Holtz pouts and disappears again, then comes back with her belt cinched around her waist, holding the shorts in place.

“That’s a look,” Erin says. “Hold still, I need to send Patty and Abby a photo of this.”

“Only if you get in with me.”

“In what, your shorts?”

Holtz cracks up. “The _photo_. Man, I like road-trip Erin. She’s bold.”

Erin blushes but gets out of the bed. “Come on. Photo time.”

They pose in front of the full-length mirror in their matching pajamas.  Some with serious faces, some with goofy.

“That’s a good one,” Erin says, pointing to her screen. She smiles as she sends it to the group chat.

[10:02pm] Patty: _guess we’re not seeing u tomorrow, huh?_

[10:03pm] Abby: _You’ve been gone less than 24hrs and you’re already wearing matching clothes?? Whatever city you’re in doesn’t know what it’s in for_

Holtz fetches her own phone from her jacket and types a quick message.

[10:05pm] Holtzmann: _partayyy in fredericksburg_

That’s followed by a string of emojis.

[10:06pm] Erin: _Very funny. Goodnight, guys. :-)_

A minute later, Erin gets a text just from Abby, not in the group chat.

[10:07pm] Abby: _You look cute together. Night!_

Erin smiles as she turns off her phone and leaves it on the bedside table.

“Whatcha smiling at?”

“Just your shorts,” Erin lies. Just her shorts, indeed.

 

She’s half asleep when Holtz, in the quietest voice possible, like maybe Erin’s not meant to hear it, says, “This has been the best X-Day ever.”

Erin can’t help but beam into the dark.

 

_I’m ready for the fall_

_I’m ready for everything that I believed in to drift away_

_ready for the leaves, ready for the colours to burn to gold and crumble away_

_you were the one who helped me see_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never eaten a cheesesteak, let alone been to Philadelphia and eaten one there, so here's hoping the internet didn't lead me astray. 
> 
> Let me know what you think so far! :)


	3. the unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I just posted a chapter yesterday but I'm way too eager for you guys to read this fic. Sue me! Also, full disclaimer, I've never been to any of the places mentioned in this whole entire fic. Just so ya know.

[the unknown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lK243OB5aRc)

 

_woman help me_

_you turn my head in circles_

_mama blessed me with magnet eyes for purple_

_so let me show you something good_

 

When Erin wakes up, she rolls over to see Holtz, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, her hair in a slightly deflated rendition of its usual style from being slept on. She’s sitting on top of her fully-made bed, up to her elbow in one of the chip bags.

“ _Finally_ ,” she says. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for hours.”

“ _Hours?_ What time is it?” Erin pulls the digital clock on the bedside table towards her. “Holtzmann, it’s 7:00am!”

“What can I say? I’m raring to go.”

“Let’s get going, then,” Erin says, throwing back the sheets.

“Does this mean you finally decided to stop fighting the road trip?” Holtz grins and shoves a handful of chips in her open mouth.

“Maybe,” Erin says, even though she definitely has.

She’s not about to object to spending more time alone with Holtz, especially with all the sparks flying between them. At least, she thinks there are sparks flying between them. It could be all in her head—god knows Holtz is a massive flirt by nature.

She gets changed back into her clothes from yesterday and returns to where Holtz is bouncing on her bed.

“Ready to go, game show?”

Erin rolls her eyes. “Back to the pet names that don’t make sense, I see.”

“What do you mean? Game shows are good. I like game shows. How ’bout…ready to go, joe blow?”

“Worse.”

“Ready to go, dildo?”

“ _Worse._ ”

Holtz laughs. “Gizmo?”

“I sound like a robot sidekick.”

“Living the dream. Rhino?”

“Insulting.”

“Calico?”

“Am I a cat?”

“Potato?”

“Also insulting.”

“Watch it. Potatoes are a gift to this world and you will not disrespect them under my roof. What about…ready to go, status quo?”

“I take offense to that.”

“Sorry. Flamingo?”

“Try again.”

“Pinocchio?”

“No.”

“Widow?”

“Creepy.”

“Afterglow?”

“Ugh. Also, how many of these have you got? Are you a walking rhyme dictionary?”

“You know it. Give me a second.” Holtz closes her eyes and presses her fingers to her temple. She’s silent for a few moments, then her eyes fly open and she beams. “I got it! Rainbow!”

Erin shakes her head with a smile. “I’ll take that one.”

“Course you will.”

“Come on,” Erin says, “let’s go get our free continental breakfast before we leave.”

 

“So,” Holtz says, “whatcha feeling for today? Wanna to keep going south, or switch things up?”

Erin looks up from where she’s hopelessly trying to saw her way through a waffle with a plastic fork and knife.

“I’m good to keep going south. Although, I’d still like to see the ocean.”

“Don’t worry, snow flurry, I won’t let us go home until I’ve taken you to see the ocean.”

Erin bites back a smile and resumes hacking away at her waffle. The plastic knife squeals against the Styrofoam plate and she winces. Across the table, Holtz props her head on her fist and watches with an amused expression.

A tine of the fork snaps right off and stands up straight in the waffle.

“Oh, come on!”

Erin picks it out and sets it on the edge of the plate with an exasperated sigh. She hesitates, looks around the room at who’s watching, then picks up the waffle in her hands and takes a bite right from it.

Holtz snorts. “That’s classy. Hold on, Abby and Pattster have to see this new Erin Gilbert.”

Erin blushes as she takes another bite and Holtz snaps a photo. She types for a second, then Erin’s phone lights up on the table beside her plate.

“Thanks for that,” she says.

“Hey, if there’s photo evidence of my pajama disaster, then there’s gonna be photo evidence of you eating a waffle with your bare hands. There’s syrup running down your arm, by the way.”

“Shoot.” Erin drops the waffle onto her plate, then grabs for a stack of napkins and attempts to wipe up the sticky mess. When that doesn’t work, she wets the napkins in her water glass. She brings the soppy stack up to her arm, then stops just in time.

She stares at the dark brown liquid, then looks up in horror. “Holtzmann! Did you _actually_ watch me dip that into my coffee cup by mistake and not say anything?”

Holtz dissolves into laughter. “I wanted to see how it would play out.”

“You’re the worst.” Erin drops the dripping mess onto her plate with a shake of her head. “I think I should give up on breakfast now.”

“I think that might be wise.”

“Are you done?”

Holtz hasn’t had anything but a cup of coffee.

“Yeah. I ate two bags of chips while I was waiting for you to wake up.”

“That’s disgusting. How can you eat chips this early in the morning?”

Holtz gazes over the rims of her glasses. “Erin. People eat hash browns for breakfast. Those are fried potatoes. Sound familiar?”

“Right. Potatoes. Gift to this world.”

“I’m sensing _heavy_ sarcasm. I told you, I won’t tolerate any potato hate. Po-hate-o, if you will. Apologize to potatoes right now, or I’ll leave you here to find your own ride back to New York.”

“I am very sorry for my po-hate-o,” Erin says in the most serious voice she can muster. “I will never disrespect potatoes again.”

“Damn straight. Ready to boogie?”

Erin stands and gathers her garbage. “Let’s do it, shploo…it.”

“Is that your attempt at a rhyming pet name?”

“Yes. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I demand to only be addressed as shplooit from now on.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Alriiight.”

 

They go back up to their room so Erin can properly wash her arm.

“Is there room to take the stuff we bought?” she asks when she’s come back out of the bathroom.

“If we cram, yeah. I have some storage.”

Erin looks at her little pile of pajamas and toiletries. “It feels weird to carry dirty underwear in your motorcycle.”

“Throw it out. That’s what I did.”

“Holtz! That’s so wasteful!”

“It was old anyway. There were holes. Not pretty.”

“Good to know,” Erin mutters. She surrenders and throws her old underwear in the trash can, then rolls up the toothbrush, comb, floss, deodorant, and toothpaste inside the pajamas. “Can’t we just buy a backpack or something?”

“Could be a worthwhile investment.”

 

They check out downstairs and head out to pack their new belongings into the limited storage space, then they’re off. They drive around the surrounding area for a bit (Holtz can’t stop laughing at the name ‘Spotsylvania’), get gas, and then get back on the I-95. It’s strangely familiar now. It almost feels like home.

They continue on through Virginia, stopping at rest stops every once in a while, not stopping as they pass the signs for Richmond, then Petersburg. Erin guesses that Holtz is on a mission to get out of the state before seeing their next sights.

Shortly after they pass into North Carolina, Holtz pulls off at a welcome center.

“What are we doing here?” Erin asks as they get off the bike. “I thought planning ‘invalidated the crazy.’”

“It does. I have to pee.”

Inside, Erin looks at brochures while she waits for Holtz to come back.

Once she does, she bumps Erin’s shoulder. “Ready to leave, Christmas Eve?”

Erin ignores that one. “Yeah, sure,” she says, putting the brochure in her hand back in its spot. She starts to walk but realizes Holtz isn’t moving. “What are you—”

Holtz pulls out a brochure from the rack, then looks at Erin with wide eyes. “Erin…”

Erin takes it and reads the title. “ _What?_ Holtz, there’s no way!”

“Come onnnn. Be crazy. Try something new. Push yourself outside of your comfort zone.”

“Absolutely not. I draw the line there. I’m not doing this.”

 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Erin says as they dismount in the parking lot of ZipQuest Waterfall and Treetop Adventure in Fayetteville.

Holtz hoots loudly.

Ziplining? Above a waterfall? Her stomach is already churning, but Holtz is so excited that she can’t say no.

Maybe this will be good. Holtz is right; it’s always a good idea to push yourself out of your comfort zone.

They head inside, where they quickly find out that you need to book in advance. Relief floods through Erin. Thank god she has an easy out of this. She was beginning to seriously regret agreeing to come.

Then she catches the expression on Holtz’s face. She looks completely crushed.

Erin’s mouth opens and closes, and then before she knows what she’s doing she’s asking the lady if there are any open times tomorrow.

Holtz perks up right away when the lady says that there was a cancellation and they can come the next morning. Erin takes one more look at the hope in Holtz’s eyes, then books them in.

Holtz throws her arms around Erin when they get outside. “Thank yooouuuu! You’re the best!”

“We’ll just have to find something else to do in Fayetteville until tomorrow morning,” Erin says, her heart beat quickening at the contact.

“Easy peasy.”

 

They end up at the Airborne and Special Operations Museum after they get lunch. Erin is a little bored, but Holtz is like a kid in a candy store as she learns about all the planes and everything else.

They finish in the museum’s gift shop.

Holtz holds up a shirt against her body. It’s hot pink, with the words _I JUMP OUT OF PLANES ON PURPOSE_ in white lettering. “I need this, right?”

“Uh…”

“Look at it. It’s so pink.” She flips it over and looks up with glee. “Look at the back!”

The back has a photo of a plane with an arrow pointing to it that says _PERFECTLY GOOD AIRCRAFT_ and beside it, a couple of parachuters and another arrow that reads _ME_.

“You don’t need that.”

“Course I do. My current shirt is getting a little ripe.”

“I meant you don’t need _that_ shirt. You can get a new shirt somewhere else.”

“Why? This one is great.”

“You don’t jump out of planes, Holtz.”

“Sure I do.”

“ _When?”_

“All the time.”

“No you don’t.”

“Fine, don’t believe me. I’m buying it anyway.”

“No you’re not,” Erin says, not believing her.

Holtz raises her eyebrow in a way that clearly says ‘watch me’ and throws the shirt over her arm.

Next Holtz picks up a pencil sharpener shaped like a Jeep. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “Check that out. And only $3.99? What a steal.”

“Oh my god.”

“What about this hat clip shaped like a bullet?”

“You are not allowed to buy that.”

“I can get the pencil sharpener, though, right?”

“And put it where? We still don’t have a backpack.”

Holtz points to a display of camo-printed drawstring backpacks with the museum logo on them. “Boom.”

“You expect me to wear that? And carry around a pencil sharpener shaped like a Jeep for you?”

“Yes?”

Erin sighs. “Okay.”

 

To Erin’s amazement, Holtz does indeed buy the shirt and proceeds to swap it out for her other one in the museum bathroom.

Outside, Erin puts on the flimsy bag filled with the sharpener and the discarded t-shirt.

“Dinner now?” Holtz asks.

Erin agrees. They head out and drive until they turn in by a Walmart. At first Erin’s concerned, but then she spots the barbecue place that Holtz must be zeroing in on.

“This okay?” Holtz asks when they stop.

“Absolutely,” Erin replies.

They’re seated in a booth and their server takes their drink orders. Erin glances through the menu.

“I wonder if the Ultimate Salad is any good,” Erin muses.

Holtz drops her own menu to the table. “ _Erin._ ”

“Now what?”

“Who orders a _salad_ at a _barbeque_ joint?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Erin says. “I’m still a little full from lunch.”

“I’m not. Think I should order the World Champion Platter?”

Erin hunts for what Holtz is talking about, then finds it. Her mouth falls open. “Full slab of spare and babyback ribs, sausage, pulled pork, brisket, two half chickens, barbeque beans, slaw, and fries,” she recites. “ _Holtzmann no!”_

“Holtzmann yes.”

“It’s _eighty dollars_.”

“And?”

“And you will die!”

“That is a valid concern. What about the Grand Champion?”

Erin skims the description for that. “No! Even cut in half, it’s still way more food than necessary for anyone to eat in a sitting. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Must you always clip my wings? Fiiine, I’ll pick something less likely to give me a heart attack.”

A minute passes.

“Ooh! Donut burger!”

 

They find a hotel nearby and enter with their handful of belongings clutched in their arms. The man behind the front desk looks a little judgemental at first, but his face smooths out when they approach.

“Hello, good sir,” Holtz says. “Uno room for tonight.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” he says, typing into the computer. He frowns a moment later. “Unfortunately, all we have right now are single rooms. We’re all booked up.”

Holtz looks to Erin. “We can make do, right?”

With a one bed? Looks like the universe was listening to Erin’s thoughts the previous night. She nods quickly, maybe a little too eagerly.

“One bed it is,” Holtz says.

“Are you sure?” the man asks, a bit of a pinched tone colouring his voice. “The beds are only queens. You’ll be awfully close.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Holtz says, her own voice a little on edge suddenly.

There’s a pause, but then the man resumes typing. Soon, they have room keys and they’re heading up to the third floor.

“Didja catch that homophobia?” Holtz says as soon as they’re in the elevator.

Erin blinks. “Is that what that was?”

“Didn’t you see how judge-y he was when we first walked in? And all the hassle with the bed?”

“Oh. I thought he was judging us for carrying our stuff in our arms,” Erin admits.

Holtz laughs. “Oh, Erin. Never change.”

 

When they get into the room, Holtz drops her little pile of pajamas and toiletries on the bed and shrugs off her jacket not a second later.

“You mind if I shower?” she says, not stopping at the jacket and going on to strip off her pants.

Erin averts her eyes as her cheeks flush. “Go for it.”

She settles onto the bed to wait and listens to the sound of the shower starting. A few seconds later, there’s a clatter that can only come from the tiny shampoo and conditioner bottles being knocked over.

Erin is about to turn on the TV, because the walls are clearly _very_ thin and it’s probably weird to sit and listen to someone shower, but then she hears Holtz humming, and a moment later she starts to sing.

“I’m a reckless mistake, I’m a cold night’s intake, I’m a one night too long, I’m a come on too strong. All my life I’ve been living in the fast lane, can’t slow down, I’m a rollin’ freight train. One more time gotta start all over, can’t slow down, I’m a lone red rover.”

Erin doesn’t know the song, but Holtz’s voice is clear through the wall. The song has a strange up-and-down, almost lilting melody to it.

“I’m a hold my cards close, I’m a wreck what I love most, I’m a first class let down, I’m a shut up sit down. I am a head case, I am the color of booooom that’s never arriving at _you_ are the pay raise, always a touch out of view, and I am the color of—All my life I’ve been living in the fast lane, can’t slow down, I’m a rollin’ freight train. One more time gotta start all over, can’t slow down, I’m a lone red rover.”

Her voice isn’t perfect by far, but it’s not bad either. It’s unexpected.

“Oooh, how did it come to this? Oooh, love is a polaroid. Better in picture, but never can fill the voooiiid.”

She returns to humming. Erin expects her to start singing again, but she doesn’t. A few minutes later, the shower shuts off and Erin grabs for her phone to look busy.

She tries _really_ hard not to look up when Holtz wanders out of the bathroom, releasing a cloud of steam, wrapped in one of those aggravatingly small hotel towels. Her hair hangs long and wet to her shoulders. She’s still humming as she grabs the grey pajamas and a fresh pair of undies from the package, then retreats to change.

When she comes back, hair still damp, Erin tries to take in what looks different about her. Is it just that she’s got her hair down? It’s weird how _normal_ she looks, stripped of all her usual quirky ensembles and her beloved hairstyle.

Then Erin realizes what’s different—her pajamas fit.

“ _Hey!_ Did you steal my pair?”

“Did I?” Holtz replies with faux ignorance.

“You little…give me back my pajamas.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s an identical pair on the bed.”  Holtz smirks and saunters over to snag Erin’s comb and run it through her hair.

Grumbling, Erin takes the other pajamas and her toiletries and heads into the bathroom to shower herself. Normally she’d wait until the morning, but she feels pretty gross after two days of being in the same clothes. She’s definitely sweaty, and if she’s going to be sharing a bed with Holtzmann, well…she wants to be clean. Just in case.

She takes her time showering, trying to scrub off two days of travel with the measly bar of hotel-supplied soap. Holtz has also apparently used up most of the shampoo and conditioner in the miniature bottles, so she has to work with what’s leftover there.

When she gets out, she dresses in the oversized pajamas, which are falling off her as well. After a moment’s thought, she takes her hair tie and knots it around the excess fabric of the shorts to tighten them around her waist. Satisfied, she exits the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her wet hair.

Holtz is lying in the bed with her legs up the headboard, inexplicably.

“Where’s my comb?” Erin asks.

“Uhhhh…what comb?”

“The comb you were literally just using before I showered?”

“Ah. That comb.”

Erin waits.

And waits.

“Holtzmann.”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my comb?”

“What comb?”

“No, we’re not playing that game. Where is my comb?”

“I, uh…broke it.”

“You broke it? You broke my comb?”

“Is it just me, or is the word ‘comb’ starting to not sound like a word anymore?”

“ _Holtzmann._ Where did you put the pieces?”

Holtz rolls to one side and pulls out the two halves of the comb from underneath her back, then rolls back into place. Erin stalks over and takes the pieces from her.

“Holtzy sorry.”

“Holtzy better be. That comb cost me a whole 97 cents.”

Holtz snickers. “I’ll buy you another one.”

Erin stands in front of the mirror and uses one of the halves to work through her hair. When she’s done that, she puts the pieces and her towel in the bathroom with the rest of her things, shuts off the light, and returns to stand at the foot of the bed.

Holtz tilts her head back to look at her. “You’re not actually mad about the comb, right?”

“No. It’s just a comb.”

“Good.”

Erin hesitates. Maybe she underestimated how weird this would be.

She stalls. “Why are you sitting like that?”

“Gets the blood flowing. Helps with sleep.”

“Really?”

“Try it.”

Erin frowns doubtfully but climbs up the bed. “How do you—”

“Oh, you gotta kinda curl into a fetal position as close to the headboard as possible, then twist.”

Erin attempts that, and then she’s got her legs up like Holtz, and she realizes _just_ how small the bed is with both of them in it.

“This is strange,” Erin says, trying to distract herself from her racing heart.

“Give it a minute.”

They’re silent.

Erin wracks her brain for something else to say. “I heard you singing,” she blurts.

Holtz turns her head to look at her. “Hm?”

“In the shower,” Erin clarifies, also turning her head to look at Holtz.

“Oh, that.”

“I didn’t know you could sing.”

“Everyone can sing.”

“That’s not true.”

“Sure it is.”

“Well, fine. But not _well_.”

“I didn’t say anything about being good, just that everyone can do it. And everyone _should_ do it, regardless of how good they are or how good they think they are. It makes you feel better.”

Erin considers that.

“How do you find the confidence to be…the way you are?”

“What, like gay?”

Erin snorts. “Sure, but I don’t mean you in particular, just…in general. How does someone be who they want to be and do things that make them happy without worrying what people think? You seem so good at it.”

Holtz bites her lip and moves her gaze back to the ceiling. “Practice. I wasn’t always like this.”

Erin finds that difficult to believe, for some reason. Her confidence about her own oddness is what makes Holtz _Holtz._ The way she carries herself makes it seem like everything she does is normal. She’s so sure of herself.

“You mean you used to worry what people thought about you?”

“In a way,” Holtz says. “I got over it. Fake it ’til you make it. Do what you want without thinking about who’s watching or what they’ll think. You just gotta do you. There’s no guide to follow on how to live your life. That’s up to you to write.”

“Right, I get that, but _how_ do you do what you want without worrying about what people think? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that.”

“Practice,” Holtz says again. She looks back at Erin. “How about this—by the time we get back to New York, you do something that you’ve always wanted to do but you were too afraid of how people would react?”

There’s one thing that immediately jumps into Erin’s head, but she dismisses the thought immediately.

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, Erin. We’ll be out of the state and everything. Those are some pretty low stakes. Use it as practice for when you’re around people whose opinions you _actually_ care about.”

“I care about your opinion,” Erin says quickly, then regrets it.

Holtz laughs. “You shouldn’t.”

They fall silent again. Holtz swings her legs down, where they land on Erin’s stomach, then pushes herself upright. Erin follows suit.

“I think that worked,” Erin says. “I feel sleepy already.”

“Yeah, me too. And it’s so _early._ God. Couple of party animals out in Fayetteville.”

“That’s so weird to me. We’re in North Carolina. I’ve never been here in my life.”

“Well, now you have.”

“I guess I have, huh?” Erin glances at her phone, which is nearly out of battery. They’ll have to buy cords tomorrow. “The others have been mysteriously quiet today. Think we should send them an update?”

Holtz grabs her own phone. “Time for a North Carolina selfie.”

“We’re going to have so many photos by the end of this trip. We should make a scrapbook.”

“Hell yeah,” Holtz says. “Smile!”

She snaps the photo, examines it for a second, then types for a few moments.

Erin’s phone vibrates.

[9:37pm] Holtzmann: _more partayyyying in fayetteville. I got the good jammies tonight like a boss_

That is, of course, followed by another string of emojis. Erin opens up the photo and studies it, the two of them cheek-to-cheek in the bed with matching wet hair. After a moment of thought, she saves the photo.

For the scrapbook, obviously.

 

_sooner or later it all comes around_

_hopefully then I will see_

_after the people and places are gone_

_you will come back, you will come back to me_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you want to listen to the fic's namesake/the song Holtz was singing: [here's the original](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmjyO-r1OhA) and [here's a girl singing an acoustic version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZbkBtaifigQ) if you want to listen to something slightly more similar to Holtz's version.
> 
> In other news, I've officially completed and passed all the courses for my bachelor's degree and now I'm just sitting tight until graduation. I just wanted you guys to know that this fic is literally the answer to the question "what the hell can you do with a BA in writing?" ;D PUTTING IT TO GOOD USE.


	4. smoke and mirrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ready to kick things up a notch? Yes? Excellent.

 [smoke and mirrors](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49tGK1sC0vs)

 

_all I believe_

_is it a dream that comes crashing down on me?_

_all that I hope_

_is it just smoke and mirrors?_

 

Needless to say, Erin doesn’t sleep much with Holtz a mere foot away from her. Every time Holtz moves, Erin freezes and doesn’t relax until she stills again.

And Holtz moves a _lot_ in her sleep.

At one point in the middle of the night, Erin gets up to use the bathroom and when she comes back, there’s just enough moonlight coming through the window that she can make out Holtz sprawled on her stomach in the bed, the sheets tangled up around only her torso, her hair dried and spread out in soft waves. Erin pauses for a few moments, just watching her, then realizes that’s creepy and crawls back into the bed slowly as to not wake her up.

If she pretends really hard, she can almost imagine what it would be like to share a bed with Holtz if they were together. Maybe they would fall asleep embraced, or move closer together in the night. Maybe Holtz would wake her up with a tender forehead kiss, a trailing of fingertips through hair.

She drifts off and dreams of Holtz.

 

Erin jerks awake when something cold touches her nose, and her eyes fly open to see a bare foot hovering just in front of her face. She yelps, and she hears laughter. Holtz pulls her foot away and then Erin can see her lying there on her side with her head propped up on her fist.

Her proximity after the dream Erin just had is very…startling.

“Was that necessary?” Erin says, hoping that her voice doesn’t give her away.

“I wanted to show you how flexible I am.” Holtz wiggles her eyebrows.

“Oh my god.” Erin rolls over onto her back to escape and hide her blush.

“Don’t roll away from me,” Holtz says. “There’s nowhere to hide.”

Erin feels the bed shift and then suddenly Holtz is climbing over top of her, holding herself up on all fours, effectively trapping her.

“Uh?”

“Now I’m got you _right_ where I want you,” Holtz says, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

Erin’s heart speeds up to the point where she’s concerned she might have a heart attack. Holtz is _so_ close. Backlit and with her hair hanging loose, she looks like some sort of slightly-deranged angel. Erin’s eyes dart to the smooth pale skin of her exposed neck and chest, and realizes she can see all the way down her shirt from this angle.

“My eyes are up here, my dear.”

Erin quickly looks back up to her face, taking in a smirk like she’s never seen before. She swallows. Her heart pounds. The seconds tick by.

Holtz leans down, and Erin’s heart stops. Down, down…

…and then she licks Erin’s nose.

“Holtzmann, gross!”

Holtz smiles in a very satisfied way, then flops back onto the bed beside Erin. “I’m glad you’re up—”

“You _woke_ me up.”

“—because now we can go _ziplining!”_

Right. Erin forgot they’ve committed to do that.

“Breakfast first,” she says. “We also need to go shopping today. I need fresh clothes and a phone charger.”

“How ’bout shopping first, then we can charge our phones while we eat?”

“Sure.”

Before they leave the hotel, Holtz somehow manages to style her hair in something that pretty closely resembles her usual hairstyle. Erin thought for sure she wouldn’t be able to pull it off without a curling iron or hairspray, but Holtz, always full of surprises, twists and pins everything up in less than two minutes using only half a comb and the bobby pins she removed the day before. It probably helps that her hair is naturally quite wavy, which Erin never would’ve known.

Holtz catches her staring. “I’m an engineer,” she says with the last bobby pin between her teeth.

That she is.

 

They go to the Walmart by the restaurant they ate at the night before. Erin picks out a plain v-neck t-shirt for $4.00 and a pair of long leggings that she’s pretty sure will protect her legs just as much as the mesh pants Holtz gave her to wear. She desperately wishes she could wear shorts. It’s only getting hotter the further south they go. She buys some anyway, just to wear when they’re not driving.

Holtz picks out a new pair of pants as well, but opts to wear her hot-pink parachuting shirt again. They purchase another new pack of underwear, and two cheap phone chargers, and Holtz makes a big show of buying a new comb for Erin.

They head back to the hotel, where they change into their new clothes and plug in their phones to charge.

Downstairs, they enjoy another equally-as-mediocre continental breakfast. Erin skips the waffles today, knowing they’ll be just as frustrating as they were yesterday, and gets a banana and a muffin instead. Holtz eats a single hard-boiled egg and five, yes _five_ , Danishes.

Erin just shakes her head. She can already tell it’s going to be quite the day.

 

They pull back into the parking lot of ZipQuest again, and Erin can already feel the nervous sweats starting. Why did she agree to this, again?

Holtz is literally bouncing as they walk to the main building.

Oh, right, that’s why.

Their guides explain all the rules and safety instructions to the group, which includes seven other people besides Holtz and Erin, and they’re all fitted with helmets, gloves, and harnesses, which are heavier than Erin expected.

One of their guides, Sammy, a plucky brunette, compliments Holtz on buckling her harness securely. “You look like you’ve done this before.”

Holtz shoots a deliberate wink Erin’s way. “I know my way around a harness.”

Erin coughs loudly.

 

They practice how to move around their double carabiner clips and how to hold above their heads and slow themselves with their gloves, and then before Erin knows it, they’re climbing up a ladder to a platform in a tree. The cable stretches out in front of them to the next tree. Paul, their other guide, goes first so he can wait on the other end for people.

The rest of the group follows after. Erin hangs back, and even though she can tell that Holtz is eager to go, she refrains until it’s only the two of them and Sammy.

“Alright, who’s next?” she asks, looking back and forth between them.

Erin doesn’t want to be the very last one to go. She swallows hard and raises her hand timidly.

“ _Alright_ Erin!” Holtz cheers.

Sammy grins. “Step right up.”

Erin gets clipped onto the cable, and then she freezes up.

“I can’t do it,” she says, panic mounting in her chest.

“Try walking out to the ledge,” Sammy says gently. “You’re safe and secure.”

“I can’t—Holtz, I’m sorry, I—I can’t do it—this is—”

Holtz reaches out to grab a hold of Erin’s wrist. “Hey. Hey. Breathe. If you don’t think you can do this, then we can turn around.”

“No, _I_ can turn around _._ You’re really excited to do this.”

“Erin, I’m only excited to do it if we can do it together.”

Erin winces and looks out at the drop and how far they are from the ground. If she can barely stomach the thought of doing this one, how is she going to cope with going across a waterfall later?

“Do you want to leave?”

Erin turns back to look at Holtz’s face, oh so concerned and sincere.

Erin pictures her enthusiastic face from earlier, and hardens her resolve. “No. We’re going to do this.”

Holtz beams encouragingly. “You’ve got this! Once you feel how much of a rush it is, you’re going to be so glad you stayed to try it!”

“Ready? Let’s try stepping up now,” Sammy says. “I’ve got you.”

Erin tiptoes her way closer to the stump thing that they take off from, then up onto it. She wills herself not to look down. She glances back at Holtz one last time, and then…

The platform falls away and she’s flying.

Wind rushes past her and her stomach dips at the feeling of nothing but a few straps and ropes supporting her. She’s got her hands clasped together in a death grip above her head. She feels like she’s going to hit the trees on either side of her, and she also feels like she’s going to throw up, but this is…still incredible.

She’s approaching the other platform, so she fumbles and brings one of her hands behind her onto the cable to slow herself like they showed her. Then she lands at the other platform, Paul reaching out to catch her, and her feet are on something solid again. Her legs are kind of shaking.

She can hear Holtz cheering from the other platform.

Next, she watches as Holtz herself comes zipping along. It seems like a much shorter ride than it did when Erin did it. When Holtz gets closer, a massive grin is visible on her face. She looks completely at ease.

Once Holtz has been detached and hooked to the platform, she turns to Erin. “So? Was it worth the terror?”

Erin smiles. “It was.”

 

As the course wears on, Erin becomes an old pro. It still takes her a few seconds to psych herself into stepping off each time, but once she does it’s all adrenaline. And Erin is, after all, a bit of an adrenaline junkie. It’s why she loves going on busts so much.

When they get to the one over the waterfall, Erin is the first one to go They’ve already crossed over water a few times, and she feels completely comfortable and eager. As she takes off, she marvels at the beautiful scenery along the longest line yet.

There’s one more after the waterfall one, and then they’re climbing back down to solid ground and heading to the main building.

She’s so glad she agreed to do this. This has been amazing and so much fun. Well, fun in every way but one…

“So how many times have you done that course?” Holtz directs this at Sammy, who’s currently helping Erin out of her harness. Holtz has already stripped out of hers and is leaning against the front counter.

“Hundreds,” Sammy replies with a tinkling laugh.

Holtz has been relentlessly flirting with her the entire excursion, to Erin’s annoyance. And, what’s worse, Sammy doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, she’s almost been flirting back.

“ _Nice._ I like an adventurous woman.” Holtz winks.

“Maybe you’ll have to come back again, then,” Sammy says.

This would be a lot less uncomfortable if she wasn’t currently holding onto the straps surrounding Erin’s entire body. Erin clears her throat and that seems to remind their guide what she’s supposed to be doing.

Once Erin is freed, she inclines her head at Holtz. “We should get going.”

“Hold your ponies,” Holtz says.

“Holtz, please? I’m starving.”

Breakfast was hours ago, and she’s worked up an appetite, so this isn’t a complete lie. Just…a convenient excuse.

Holtz sighs exaggeratedly. “Fiiiiine. Samantha, it has been an absolute _pleasure_ getting to know you.”

She’s probably about one minute away from giving the guide her number, so Erin grabs her by her elbow and literally drags her out of the place.

“Well, that was rude,” Holtz says with a pout as they cross the parking lot.

What Erin _wants_ to say is that flirting aggressively with her is misleading if she’s going to flirt with other women that hard as well, and right in front of her to boot. She doesn’t say that, though. She says nothing, just puts her helmet on and makes sure her pseudo-backpack with all their stuff is secure on her back.

 

They’re pretty silent as they stop at a Taco Bell for a quick lunch.

“Did I do something wrong?” Holtz asks finally.

Erin bites her lip and picks at her burrito. “No.”

It’s not against the law to flirt with people. It’s not like she has some sort of claim on Holtz—they’re not dating, after all. It’s just that she had sort of been starting to think that maybe Holtz liked her back and that the flirting wasn’t just a _thing_.

Of course, that’s way too embarrassing to admit.

“You’d tell me if I did, right?”

“I would,” Erin promises.

Holtz settles back in her seat, clearly placated by the reassurance. “So what’s the plan, Batman? Ready to give up yet?”

At first Erin thinks that Holtz means give up on the possibility of them dating, but then she realizes she means the trip.

“Not yet,” she says. “Unless you are.”

“I could go on forever. You’re the one running this rodeo. Any place you’d like to go?”

Erin thinks for a moment. “There’s actually one place I’ve always wondered about…”

 

They exit off the I-95 and drive into downtown Savannah, Georgia, which holds the title of America’s Most Haunted City. This they _have_ to see. It’s been on Erin’s radar ever since she was a kid.

They spot signs all over advertising ghost tours of the city, and Erin’s excitement mounts.

They’ve decided to find a hotel first, get settled and freshen up after half a day of driving, get some dinner, and then go out exploring. They find a hotel pretty easily, and Erin is a little disappointed that they have double rooms available. Although, maybe it’s for the best that they don’t have to share a bed again.

In their room, Erin changes into the shorts she bought earlier, thankful that she had the foresight to do so, while Holtz opts to change into one of the pairs of pajama shorts.

“Are you wearing those out?” Erin asks.

“It’s hooottttt,” Holtz whines.

“I’m not judging. I was just wondering.”

They eat dinner at a nearby restaurant that the front desk person recommends to them (the hotel isn’t fancy enough to have a concierge). While they wait for their food to come, they look through the pictures on Holtz’s phone that she took of them ziplining. There’s a great one of them waiting on one of the platforms that Sammy took for them. Holtz has her arm slung around Erin and they have matching grins of exhilaration. There are also some awesome action shots of each of them mid-flight. Holtz sends a few of those ones to the group chat, but Erin notes that she doesn’t send the one of the two of them.

[7:08pm] Abby: _Now where tf are you guys?_

[7:11pm] Patty: _lookin fly_

[7:13pm] Erin: _That was still in Fayetteville. Now we’re waiting for our meals in Savannah, GA. Most haunted city? We’ll see about that. :-)_

[7:14pm] Abby: _!!!!_

[7:15pm] Abby: _Record any paranormal entities that you encounter and send us the video for analysis. If there’s any merit to the “most haunted” title, we should all take a trip down there_

[7:16pm] Patty: _or u kno, have fun and leave work behind???_

[7:16pm] Holtzmann: _NO REST FOR THE WICKED, PATRICIA_

[7:17pm] Holtzmann: _we’ll send any nasty spookies ur way don’t worry ;)_

[7:19pm] Erin: _Don’t worry, Abby, I’ll make sure we properly document what we find._

[7:21pm] Erin: _Holtzmann is pretending to stab herself in the eye with her fork. I don’t think she likes the idea of proper documentation. Science is only valid if you record it, Holtz._

[7:22pm] Holtzmann: _i’m gonna buy a sidecar and bring a ghostie friend back to nyc. THERES ur proper documentation_

[7:24pm] Patty: _hahahahaha man I miss yall. come back soon xo_

[7:24pm] Abby: _(I’m not joking about the video. Erin?)_

[7:26pm] Erin: _You can count on me._

It turns out that all the ghost tours require advanced booking.

“Can nothing in this life come easy?” Holtz shouts at the sky.

“Shhhhh.”

“Erin! I’m gonna be _crushed_ if we don’t get to do a ghost tour! I was counting on listening to local ghost stories and trying to find scientific backing for them! This isn’t faaair.”

“Who says we need a tour to go find some ghosts? We literally do that for a living, Holtz. Let’s just look up some of the most haunted sites and go check them out ourselves.”

“I love it when you’re logical.”

Erin’s heart stammers. There’s that pesky crush again. There’s no escaping it. She pulls out her phone and types in _haunted sites Savannah_ and waits for the results to load. She scrolls through a few while Holtz butts her head in to look at the screen. She jabs at one.

“There! Let’s go there, Erin!”

She’s like a little kid begging to go to the carnival. It’s adorable and oh-so-irritating at the same time.

Erin pulls up that result and enters the address into Google Maps. “Let’s go.”

 

Colonial Park Cemetery is apparently one of the most haunted places in all of Savannah. The gates are locked for the night, but there are several people lingering around the perimeter, probably ghost-hunting.

“There are 10,000 people buried here, but only 1,000 grave markers,” Erin reads off her phone. “Many people believe the desecration of these burial grounds fuel the paranormal activity.” She looks up. “Well, they’re not wrong.”

Holtz peers through the bars of the fence. “Heeeere ghostie-ghostie-ghostie.”

“Holtz, don’t be demeaning. Didn’t you learn anything from that encounter with the spirit of that little girl back in May?”

They both shudder simultaneously, remembering.

Holtz pulls out her own phone and opens Snapchat, which Erin tried to use a few times but could never figure out. Holtz runs the unofficial Ghostbusters Snapchat. Thousands of fans follow it, probably just to watch Holtz’s antics. She posts everything: invention trials, chaotic and very unflattering mid-bust videos, photos of ghosts with funny filters applied to them, random crap she sees on the street...it’s no wonder why Abby runs the _official_ Ghostbusters Snapchat, but that has a tenth of the followers. Mostly because all she uses it for is explaining the science, which is infinitely less exciting than a video of Holtz popping popcorn with a blowtorch.

“Whaddup, Ghost Girls, Holtzmann here. I’m standing in beautiful, haunted Savannah with the ever-lovely Dr. Gilbert.” Holtz swings the phone to face Erin, clearly recording. She drops it down and Erin can hear the video play back. Then Holtz lifts the phone up again after she’s posted it. “Dr. Gilbert, what do you have to say about the Colonial Park Cemetery?”

“No ghosts, yet.”

“You heard it here first, folks.”

That video plays back too. Erin squints across the cemetery. “Is that something?”

Holtz holds the phone up. “Dr. Gilbert seems to have spotted something.”

“There. You see the mist by that tree?”

“Oh yeah, baby!”

Erin pulls up her own phone’s camera and starts recording for Abby.

“Log date: July 7th, 2017. I think what we’re looking here at is a Class I vapour. Low mobility, limited corporealization…”

“Dr. Gilbert gettin’ science-y in Savannah.”

“Holtz, put that away. I’m trying to _actually_ document this.”

“So am I. You hear this, folks? First she tells me I need to record science for it to be real, then tells me to stop recording. What’s the truth?”

“The truth is you’re an ass.”

“Hey everyone, I missed capturing it but Dr. Gilbert just called me a mean name.”

“Can you _prove it?”_ Erin challenges.

“Damn, she’s got me there.”

Erin ignores her. “I can feel the ionization of this place crawling on my _skin_. I wish we had our PKE meter with us to see what’s going on. I think the Ghostbusters should definitely come back with our proper gear at a later date.”

“There you have it, Ghost Girls, Dr. Gilbert and I have confirmed that the Colonial Park Cemetery is indeed haunted. Fear not, though: We ain’t afraid of no ghosts.”

Holtz signs off with a salute and turns the camera to Erin, who gives a half-hearted wave. She pockets the device after she posts the video.

Erin continues to film on her own phone. It’s a little unsettling to be in the presence of spectral activity without their gear, but there are clearly no threats here.

“Why do you call our fans ‘Ghost Girls?’” Erin asks absentmindedly as she watches the glowing mist cross behind a headstone.

“Because I think a lot of them are people who are Ghost Girls for their own reasons. You know, the types of people we were as kids.”

Erin doesn’t miss the plural. Was Holtz also tormented as a child? If so, this is the first Erin’s hearing of it. Every time she thinks she’s one step closer to figuring Holtz out, she peels back another layer and realizes there’s so much more than she thought.

Erin still doesn’t understand and she feels this conversation might be getting personal, so she stops recording. “So why would you call them that, then?”

Holtz shrugs. “Trying to reclaim it, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how much it hurt you to be called that, and I want to make an army of kids who are proud to be called it and proud of whatever makes them stand out, whatever it is that people make fun of them for.”

Erin swallows. “Oh.”

“It’s kind of like what I’m trying to do with you and the crazy thing.”

“Right.”

“Is that okay? Does it bother you? I know sometimes I do these things without really thinking about how it could hurt.”

“I guess it’s fine…I like the sentiment behind it. Sometimes it’s still a little hard for me to hear that name…but overall, I’m also proud to be Ghost Girl now. Especially considering you guys are Ghost Girls too.”

Holtz is quiet for a moment. “Still not there with ‘crazy,’ though, huh?”

Erin sighs. “No.”

“I’m not pushing too hard with this, am I? I mean, you told me how much it bothers you and I still concocted this road trip…was that massively overstepping?”

Erin tries to think of a response to that, but Holtz fills the silence before she can reply.

“I’m sorry.” Holtz scratches her ear. “I know the weight that words can have, and I know how hard it is to escape from who we were in the past.”

“You do?”

Holtz chuckles a little darkly. “Sure. You aren’t the only one with ghosts, Erin.”

Erin wonders what Holtz could possibly be running from. What secrets she’s living with. She feels like Holtz has been hinting at something for a while now, but she isn’t any closer to figuring out what it is. Her entire life is a hazy question mark, and Erin’s not sure that it’ll _ever_ be revealed.

“Point is,” Holtz says, “I’m sorry if I’m pushing you too hard into reclaiming something that has haunted you for so long. I realize that not everybody wants to do that. Sometimes it’s better to leave things in the past if it’s going to be harder on you to face them than not.”

Erin exhales. “No, Holtz, it’s okay. Really. I think…I think this is good. The whole ‘crazy’ thing. I’m ready to stop being scared of that word. I don’t want it to run my life any more, at least not in a negative way.”

“Is this trip working at all? Can you feel your associations changing even a little?”

Erin shakes her head sadly. “I don’t know…I don’t feel like we’ve done anything crazy.”

“What? Come on, Erin, we’ve done lots! You went ziplining today, that’s crazy! We’re standing in the most haunted city in America right now, that’s pretty crazy!”

Erin shrugs. “I guess. It still doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Well, maybe we’ll just have to up the ante tomorrow. Are you still a firm no on the body mod front?”

“Yes, Holtzmann, I am.”

“Damn. Worth a try.” Holtz points. “Hey, our friend is leaving.”

Erin watches as the glowing mist fades to black.

“See, Erin? All ghosts disappear in time.”

Erin shivers and wraps her arms around her torso, even though the night is still warm. “That’s very true, Holtz. That’s very true.”

 

The next morning after they’ve eaten and dressed (what Erin wouldn’t give for clean clothes at this point), they pack everything into the motorcycle and the little backpack.

“Still good to continue south?” Holtz asks. “Have you had your fill of America’s Most Haunted City?”

“I think I’ve seen enough, yes,” Erin says. “And south seems to be the magic direction.”

“Shall we, chickpea?”

“Couldn’t have gone for ‘sweet pea?’ That’s at least a proper pet name.”

“Chickpea is more inventive.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

They get gas, then join back up with the interstate. Erin watches the road signs go by and counts in her head how many they pass to keep herself occupied.

They stop at a rest stop, where Holtz has the idea to have Erin pose on the bike as if she’s the one driving. She snaps a photo of that and sends it to the others, who respond with a lot of laughter and emojis (Patty) and a prompt about the ghost video (Abby). Holtz even offers to teach Erin how to drive the motorcycle, because that’ll _really_ be crazy, but Erin flat-out refuses. Maybe one day.

“How ’bout we switch things up and take the highway instead?” Holtz suggests when they’re ready to take off again. “They’re more fun than the interstate. Who knows what kinds of wacky shit we’ll see.”

“I’m down,” Erin says.

They follow the signs to join the #301, and then the landscape changes dramatically. Now they’re passing through strange, abandoned-looking towns with bizarre names. Ludowici, Doctortown…they stop in Jesup, which seems to be a bigger centre (but still small). They drive around for a bit there and fill up on gas, because there are a lot fewer opportunities to stop along the highway than there are along the interstate.

The man at the gas station greets them warmly.

“Welcome to Jesup, folks. Y’all from out of town?”

“Drove all the way from New York City,” Holtz replies with a smirk. “What’s there to do in Jesup or the surrounding area?”

“Well, we’re home to Georgia’s oldest drive-in movie theatre.”

“Wicked.”

“Of course, there are ghost towns up and down, if you’re into that sorta thing.”

Holtz looks to Erin with a sly grin. “Ghost towns, huh?”

“What’s the next one going south?” Erin asks.

“Oh, that’ll be McKinnon. Not much going on there. Used to be a Finnish colony. Now there’s just a coupla buildings left. The old sauna building is still there, the schoolhouse…”

“That sounds like a place we should _absolutely_ check out,” Holtz says.

 

McKinnon, Georgia, is just as desolate as the man described. They wander around and look at a few of the standing buildings. They don’t see a single person, and it’s hard to tell if anyone actually lives here or not. Erin Googles the town on her phone to try and find out, and sees that it has [its own functional website](http://mckinnongeorgia.info/), even if it looks a little sparse and outdated. White background, a single photo, and straightforward text. There’s a sidebar of links about the history of the town as well as more photos.

Erin goes to the page titled _McKinnon now (2010)_ and reads out the passage. “‘If anybody is considering a place to retire with signs of a Finnish past including saunas, there are two very nice properties and two low cost ones available.’” She looks up at Holtz. “So, in 2010 there were four houses available? That doesn’t give us any more information about whether or not people live here now.”

“What else does it say?”

“All the contact information is for this one guy who doesn’t even live here. Something about this website is really unsettling, and I don’t know what.”

Holtz laughs.

Erin clicks on another link on the website’s homepage, which opens a newspaper article. “Oh, a McKinnon resident turned 100 and according to this he was still cutting his own grass. That’s impressive.”

“I hope I’m limber enough to trim my own lawn at 100, if you know what I mean.” Holtz winks.

Erin covers her mouth. “Oh _god._ ”

“Yeah, that crossed a line. I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”

Erin looks up. “What? I didn’t hear what you said. I’m just reading this…at the age of 101 this guy got married for the first time…to a 36-year-old woman.”

Holtz pulls a face.

Erin quickly exits out of _that_ page, because it’s making her uncomfortable, and clicks on the sidebar link entitled _Saturday Night_ , which pulls up another newspaper article, written by a woman named Betty Murphy. She describes a Saturday night excursion she took with her friends to McKinnon in 1936. She explains her experience in the Finnish sauna there. The building is still standing in front of them but clearly hasn’t been functional in a long time.

“Listen to this,” Erin says. “‘To further increase the therapeutic value of the bath, bundles of switches were brought out with which we whipped one another vigorously. Oddly enough, this didn’t hurt. Sixty-five years later I can still hear the sound of the men next door, talking and laughing in their strange tongue as we sweated the impurities out of our bodies. I can still also remember how satisfying the cold shower was afterwards.’”

“Sounds like the perfect Saturday night,” Holtz cracks.

“Saturday night in McKinnon,” Erin murmurs. “I can’t believe this article is pretty much the only news about this town. One of the only documented historical moments of McKinnon, Georgia, is a woman visiting a sauna in 1936. That and a man marrying a woman a third his age.”

“I love it,” Holtz says.

 

They continue on, passing through more small towns with weird names. Hortense. Raybon. They stop in Nahunta for lunch at a place called Wings R Us, then keep going. Hickox. Homeland. Folkston.

The next thing Erin knows, they’ve passed the state line into Florida. This is a state she’s actually been to—she went to Disneyworld with Abby some time between their high school graduation and Erin abandoning her.

They drive for a little while longer, then meet back up with the I-95. It’s a bit of a relief to be back on it. Erin is surprised when shortly after, Holtz exits at the signs for Jacksonville. She would’ve thought she’d hold out for something else. Maybe they need gas again.

Sure enough, they pull into a gas station, where Holtz gasses up the bike and buys a bag of gummy worms inside.

“Hey, so, there’s somewhere I’d like to swing by while we’re in the neighbourhood, if that’s alright with you.” Holtz tears open the bag.

“Oh, sure!” Erin says. She’s open to anything, and Holtz hasn’t suggested a whole lot on this trip. “Where’s that?”

Holtz removes a worm and rips off its head with her teeth. “Casa Holtzmann. You up for meeting the ’rents?”

Erin blinks and leans in. She must’ve misheard because Holtz has food in her mouth. “Sorry?”

“My parents’ house is fifteen minutes from here.”

“Your…parents?” No, this has to be a classic Holtzmann joke.

“Yep.”

“I thought your parents were dead?” Erin blurts.

Holtz cocks her head and shoves three gummy worms in her mouth at the same time. “Why’d you think that?”

“I don’t know? You’ve never mentioned them? And you were talking about ghosts last night?”

Holtz smirks around the gummy worm in her mouth. “I don’t mention a lot of things, Erin. I lived in Canada for two years, did I ever tell you about that? I go to church every Sunday. I double-majored in engineering and art in my undergrad. Once I sold a painting for half a million dollars. There’s lots I don’t talk about. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Erin holds her hands up. “There is a _lot_ to discuss there, and we’re going to come back to it later, but let’s back up. Your parents live fifteen minutes from here? And we’re going to visit them?”

“If you want, yeah.”

“Did…did you plan this? Is that why we’re here?”

“Not _really_. Once we crossed the border into Florida I knew we were too close to not visit. But I never expected or planned for us to come here, no.”

Erin shakes her head to try and clear it. All that musing about Holtz’s life being a complete mystery that will never be solved, and here she is being given the holy grail of Jillian Holtzmann Backstory. Is Erin even ready to _know?_

The answer comes fast. Yes. She wants to know all of it. Every last detail.

“Okay, then. Let’s…go meet your parents.”

 

_deep in my heart, deep in my mind_

_take me away, take me away_

_this is my word_

_dream maker, life taker, open up my mind_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET ME TELL YOU A STORY: I've been writing this fic by the seat of my pants to figure out their activities, but I've had always had certain destinations picked out. Savannah was one of those places ONLY because it's a good stopping point between Fayetteville and Jacksonville. Once they got there, I looked up something for them to do and BOOM I found out about the most haunted city thing. I had NO idea. How PERFECT of a coincidence is that???
> 
> WAIT. IT GETS BETTER. After they left Savannah, I had them go straight to Jacksonville, but realized my timeline was skewed and they needed to take longer to get there. On a COMPLETE WHIM I dragged their little blue line from the I-95 to the highway to see how much time it added & decided they could stop in Jesup. Then for the FUN OF IT I decided to ZOOM IN and LO AND BEHOLD....FRICKIN MCKINNON GEORGIA WAS WAITING THERE LIKE A SIGN FROM THE HEAVENS. I had ZERO idea it existed and only found it by the most arbitrary and coincidental means. AND THEN I FOUND THE WEBSITE ([YES IT'S REAL](http://mckinnongeorgia.info/) AND VERY SURREAL TO EXPLORE) AND I FOUND THE LINK FOR 'SATURDAY NIGHT' AND bY THAT POINT I WAS CONVINCED IT WAS A JOKE OR I WAS DREAMING BECAUSE H O W IN THE H*CK cOULD I DISCOVER THIS TINY ASS TOWN CALLED MCKINNON WITH AN ARTICLE ABOUT SATURDAY NIGHT AND HAVE IT BE RIGHT WHERE HOLTZ AND ERIN WERE???????????????/
> 
> Anyway, I'm convinced that the forces of the universe are doing everything in their power to help me with this fic. Or I have a Holtzbert guardian angel.


	5. summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! So excited to finally be posting this one! This was the very first chapter I wrote for this fic. I hope you like it!
> 
> Now, you ready to enter Headcanon Central™? Fair warning, after this chapter things start to get a liiiittle serious.

[summer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTsbz5fW8-M)

 

_if only for a second_

_let me have you_

_tell me all your secrets_

_let me know you_

 

They pull up to what is, quite simply, a mansion. There’s no other word to describe the monstrosity of a house towering over them.

Erin steps off the motorcycle and removes her helmet, gaping up at the building. “ _This_ is your parents’ house?” She’s suddenly very conscious of her several-day-old Walmart ensemble and the goofy Airborne and Special Operations Museum backpack she’s wearing.

“Yep.”

“This? Your parents live _here?”_

“They do. I did too, once upon a time.”

“You _did?_ ”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I don’t know, Holtz! Maybe because all your clothes come from thrift stores and you only own one plate? I never would’ve expected you to come from money. If anything, I thought your parents would live in a trailer in the woods somewhere. Or in a commune. I don’t know. This is just…very unexpected.”

Holtz laughs. “Hey, I live the way I live. I have money, and not just inheritance money. ‘Sides, my parents are very down-to-earth. Let’s just say I’ve come from a long line of prolific inventors on both sides of my family. I’m related to the guy who invented the flamethrower. Isn’t that neat?”

“Of course you are.”

Holtz takes Erin’s helmet and leaves both of them on the bike. “Come on. Let’s get outta this heat and into _the_ heat.”

 

The front door swings open to reveal a bored-looking teenaged girl with dark brown hair past her shoulders, a smattering of freckles, and aviators perched on her head.

She looks surprised to see them standing there on the porch. “Jillian?”

Holtz grins. “Hey, sis. S’up?”

Sis? That’s Holtz’s _sister?_

“What are you doing here?”

“Fine way to greet your sister,” Holtz says, and steps past the girl into the house. “Come on, Erin. If we wait for her to invite us in, we’ll melt out there.”

It takes Erin a moment to respond, then her brain starts working again and she follows Holtz into the air-conditioned house. They’re in a foyer with a grand staircase and colourful abstract paintings lining the walls.

Holtz kicks off her shoes. “Erin, this is my little sister, Jade. Jade, this is Erin Gilbert.”

“Hey,” Jade says. She hikes up the sleeve of her off-the-shoulder shirt.

“Nice to meet you,” Erin says. She extends her hand for a shake but drops it awkwardly a few seconds later when it becomes obvious the girl isn’t responding. She bites her lip and sets to work removing her own shoes.

“Mom home?” Holtz asks.

“Yeah.” Jade jabs her thumb behind her. “MOM, JILLIAN’S HERE.”

Erin winces at the sudden shouting.

“ _JILLIAN_ IS?” a voice calls back.

A few seconds later, a woman in a wheelchair pushes herself around the corner, and Erin knows instantly that she’s Holtz’s mom. Even if the previous conversation hadn’t just happened, she still would’ve known. The woman is a dead ringer for Holtz. Same jawline, same nose, same eyes. The only difference is the woman’s hair has greyed. Still, she looks like she’s in her early fifties, tops.

“My, my,” Holtz’s mom says, “would you look at that? Jillian, why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” She seems to take in Erin at that moment. “And don’t tell me you’ve brought _the_ Erin Gilbert along?” She holds a hand to her heart. “You’re even prettier than the photos do justice, darling.”

Erin’s mouth falls open and she looks to Holtz in panic. “Uh?”

Holtz has an easy grin. “Mom, this is Erin. Erin, meet my mother.”

“What kind of an introduction is that?” The woman rolls her eyes. “Ann Holtzmann. Call me Ann. And get over here; I’m a hugger. You too, Jillian. I can’t believe you haven’t given your old mother a hug yet after not seeing her for two years.” She gives a conspiratorial look to Erin that says _this one, am I right?_

Holtz bounds over and bends to envelope Ann in a hug. “Missed you, Mom.”

Erin follows her lead and lets herself be pulled into Ann’s embrace. When she lets go, she beams up at Erin. “To what do we owe this pleasure? If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve prepared! I’ve been wanting to meet you for eons!”

“I, uh…” Erin swallows. “I assure you, I didn’t know we were coming either, or I would’ve made her call ahead. I’m so sorry to drop in unannounced.”

“Don’t you worry about that. I’m just happy you _are_ here. Come on in! You must be parched. What can I get you to drink? Water? Sweet tea? Lemonade? Something stiffer?” Ann winks, and Erin can see where Holtz got _that_ from.

“Just water would be great, actually. Thank you,” Erin says.

“Jillian will get that for you, won’t she?”

Holtz salutes and strides off in the direction of what Erin assumes is the kitchen. Jade has long since disappeared. Erin isn’t sure exactly where she went (or when, for that matter).

“Come on, dear, let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” Ann says, and motions for Erin to follow. They go through the archway and turn into a massive living room area. Ann gestures at the array of couches. “Sit wherever you like, Erin. Except the armchair. That one’s mine.”

Erin sits gingerly on one of the couches. Ann stands a bit shakily from her wheelchair and moves to sit in the aforementioned armchair. Once she’s all settled in, she props her chin on her fist like Erin’s seen Holtz do _many_ times, and grins in a way that also resembles Holtz so much it’s uncanny. Does she have a father, or was she reproduced directly from Ann’s DNA?

“So, Erin, what brings you to Jacksonville?”

“Holtz,” Erin says instantly, then shakes her head. “Sorry, I mean Jillian.” She stumbles over the name a bit. She’s pretty sure it’s the first time she’s ever called Holtz that.

“She’s still doing that, huh? You know, I’m all for nicknames, but I refuse to call her by her family name. I know she likes it, but I’m her mother. I’ll call her by her given name until she comes up with something I can get behind. Her father’s always called her Jilly-Bean. She likes that one. I called her Silly-Jilly when she was little.”

“Already getting into the embarrassing stories, huh? That didn’t take long.”

Erin twists her head at the sound of Holtz’s voice behind her. Holtz is holding two glasses, one with water and one with something in a horrendous purple colour. Grape soda? She passes the water to Erin and then drops onto the couch beside her, kicking up her feet onto the coffee table.

“Feet on the floor, please,” Ann says.

Holtz sticks her tongue out but removes her feet. She takes a long swig of her beverage and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Erin tell you how we ended up here?”

“Only that you’re to blame,” Erin says.

“I’m teaching Erin about the importance of spontaneity and how ‘crazy’ is something to aspire to,” Holtz says.

“Naturally,” Ann says. “How’s that going?”

“Pretty good.” Holtz sips from her drink again.

Erin takes a mouthful of water. “I’ve been going with the flow surprisingly well. For me.”

“Well, congratulations. That’s one of life’s most precious skills to have.” Ann smiles warmly.

“So, tell me more embarrassing stuff about Holt—uh, Jillian.” Erin leans forward eagerly.

“When she was four she painted her entire body and ran naked down the street,” Ann says.

“And I did it again when I was fourteen, and I’ll do it again when I’m forty.” Holtz chugs the rest of her drink and sets her empty glass down on the coffee table. “Nothing embarrassing about that.”

Erin snorts. “Was she as wild as a kid as she is now?”

“Oh, she’s worse now, for sure. She was a fairly subdued child.”

“Really?” Erin asks in surprise.

“No, she was a nightmare. A wonderful, creative, artistic, energetic nightmare.” Ann smiles fondly at Holtz. “Wouldn’t have her any other way.”

“I’m hearing lots about the artistic side. I had no idea.”

“Did you see her paintings in the foyer?”

“Those are _hers?_ Oh my god, Holtz, I had no idea. Those are incredible!”

“I told you like half an ago that I sold a painting for half a mil. Weren’t you listening?”

“I thought you were _joking_.”

“All my children are multi-talented geniuses,” Ann says. “I’m very lucky.”

Erin takes another sip of water. “Tell me about the rest of the family. Holtz never talks about you guys.”

“I’m not surprised. She’s very private—did you know that I had to find out about the Ghostbusters through the _news_ of all things? She never tells me anything. Anyway, I need to go start on supper, actually, but I’m sure Jillian will tell you all about them. Anything less would be rude, right Jillian?”

Holtz rolls her eyes.

Ann continues, “There’s plenty of photos around. And one of the children in the flesh, although I’m sure Jade’ll be off to hang out with her friends in no time. She’s never around anymore. It’ll be a miracle if she sticks around for supper.”

With that, she gets back into her wheelchair and disappears off in the direction of the kitchen with a wave.

Erin turns to Holtz. “I like her.”

Holtz beams. “Good. She likes you, too.”

“Does she?”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t?”

Erin blushes. “Why has she been looking at photos of me?”

“Oh, she reads everything about the Ghostbusters. Watches all the news clips, reads all the articles, keeps up on our lives more than I do, honestly.” Holtz smirks in an amused way. “That’s how she knows you. I haven’t been talking about you.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Don’t take it personally. If I talked about you my life to her, I’m sure I’d never shut up about you.”

Erin’s blush deepens. She clears her throat. “So, tell me about your siblings. No getting out of it now. You heard your mother.”

“Oh, fiiiine.” Holtz grins widely and extends a hand. “Come on, then, let’s do this properly.”

 

They stand in a long hallway upstairs that’s covered with family photos, arranged in what seems like chronological order. They start at the far end at a grainy baby picture.

“That’s my older brother, Jacob,” Holtz says. “He’s 37 now.”

“How old is your mom?” Erin says, unable to keep the question in any longer.

“54,” Holtz replies.

Erin’s brain does the math quickly. “So she had him when she was 17?”

“Yep,” Holtz says, then points to the next photo. “There’s my dad. You’ll meet him later when he gets home. And that’s Jacob again. And Mom.”

Erin peers at the photo. “She looks so much like you, Holtz.”

“I know. We get that a lot.” Holtz sidesteps to the next photo. “Here’s Jenna, my older sister. She’s 35 now.”

“J names, huh?”

“Yeah, but don’t comment on it. Mom’s still pissed that the Duggars made it popular. She’ll rant about how she did it first for _hours_ if you let her. Anyway, let’s move on ahead to when everyone’s lives _vastly_ improved.” She pulls them down, skipping over several photos, and lands at one. “I present to you: baby Holtz.”

Erin leans in to examine the photo. “Aww, Holtz, look at you!”

“I’ve had my dashing good looks since birth, right?”

Erin laughs. “Obviously.”

“Anyway, babies are boring. Let’s move along…oh, that’s where Jaclyn was born. That’s boring. She wasn’t as cute as me.”

“Another sister? How many siblings do you _have,_ Holtz?”

“We’re almost done,” Holtz says. “Here’s a selection of family memories. I can explain anything you want, but I won’t go through all of them.”

Erin points at one featuring a Holtz who looks around five, surrounded by the rest of her family in a forest. “Where’s that?”

“When I was seven, we went on a road trip across the country. Perks of homeschooling all your children, I guess. That’s in Colorado. Or Utah, maybe? I can’t remember.”

Erin squints at the photo. “You’re seven there? You’re so small!”

“I’ve always been scrawny. There’s us at the Grand Canyon on the same trip.” Holtz points to the next photo.

“How long was the trip?”

“Few months. We took our time. It was an ‘educational experience.’”

Erin moves on to another photo, with a young Holtz in a garage holding up what looks like a digital clock. She’s wearing yellow glasses, the first Erin’s seen of them. “Is this when you got your glasses?”

“Yeah, when I was about eight. There I just built my first clock. I was so proud of myself. Took it apart the next day and rebuilt it so it projected on my ceiling.”

Further down the line, there’s teenaged Holtz. Erin laughs when she sees the photos. “Oh man. That’s priceless.”

“That was my denim phase,” Holtz admits. “It was the 90s. Sue me.”

“It’s so weird seeing you with short hair. _Actual_ short hair. When did you do that?”

Holtz coughs. “I was 13. It was 1997. Ellen DeGeneres had just come out. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

Erin tries to hide her smile. “How old are you in this one?” She points at one where Holtz is dressed up in something that resembles a suit, her hair considerably longer and hanging loose. She’s got her arm around a short and gawky girl with curly dark hair.

“16. I got asked to prom.”

“You were homeschooled,” Erin points out.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t have a reputation around town.” Holtz grins. “Carla Myers. A senior. We made out in a bathroom stall for half an hour. Lost my virginity to her, too, but that was a different night.”

“Right,” Erin says, suddenly flustered. Holtz is leaning against the wall nonchalantly with her arms folded, smirking. Erin licks her lips and steps around her. “I’m not here to hear about your high school conquests. Let’s get back to your family. Where does Jade fit into all this? There’s, uh…quite an age gap, huh?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Holtz says, turning to face her and appraising the wall of photos, “but she wasn’t an accident. She’s adopted. The J name was just a happy coincidence.”

“So _that’s_ why she doesn’t look anything like you.”

Holtz chuckles. “Yeah. And why there’s a 17-year age difference between us.”

“That too.”

Holtz moves down to point out a photo of what’s clearly a younger Jade. “Mom and Dad were empty-nesting pretty hard and decided they still had more love to share, so they started fostering kids. Well, they were planning on fostering kids. What actually happened is they fostered Jade, then fell in love with her, then adopted her. She was 12 and a bit difficult, so they decided to focus all their energy on her instead of taking in more kids.”

“Difficult?”

“I wasn’t around at the time so I can’t speak a lot about it, but apparently she had a classic case of Grumpy Preteen Symptom on top of the kind of trust issues that come with a lifetime in the system.” Holtz shrugs. “She just needed love. It took a bit of time, but from what I hear, now she’s just a _regular_ old grumpy teenager. She’s 16 now.”

“That’s really cool.” Erin studies the wall. “What about your other siblings? Where are they now?”

Holtz takes her by the elbow and leads her down to the end of the photos, where the most recent ones hang. Erin is surprised to see a photo of the Ghostbusters framed there. Holtz points to one of a man and woman with two small kids.

“That’s Jacob and his wife, Kelsey. The munchkins are Noah and Madison.”

“Wow,” Erin breathes, “I didn’t know you were an aunt.”

Holtz shrugs. “In theory. I’ve never actually met the kids. They all live out in California. Jacob and Kelsey both work in Silicon Valley. That’s where they met.”

“Wow,” Erin repeats.

“Here’s Jenna and her boyfriend, Eric. And that’s her son Wyatt there. That picture’s a little outdated. He’s turning two this year.”

“Where do they live?”

“Miami,” Holtz replies. “She’s the CEO of a major corporation, currently.”

“Your mom wasn’t joking about you guys being talented and successful.”

Holtz chuckles. “There’s Jaclyn in that one. She’s turning 31 this year.”

Erin leans in. “Is that…a pot leaf costume?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“And there’s a photo of it on the wall.”

“Yep. Mom’s really proud of her. Jaclyn lives and works in Vancouver, Canada. She’s a marijuana legalization activist. Quite well respected, too.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“I’m not. She’s the hippie of the family. Lived on Vancouver Island for several years. It is hippie _central_ out there, I’m telling you.”

Something dawns on Erin. “Wait, you said you lived in Canada for two years? You weren’t…you didn’t…”

Holtz smirks. “It’s a fun lifestyle, let me tell you. There are smaller islands _off_ the main island, did you know that? They’re like, completely off the grid. They’re practically communes and everyone grows their own weed. Some of the places barely even have building restrictions. You should _see_ some of the wacked out houses that stoned people build. It’s great.”

“I didn’t even know there was an island there at all.” Erin pauses. “So you were there for two _years?_ Did you work?”

“Sure. I wasn’t _exactly_ there legally, but you know.”

Erin shakes her head. “What about Jaclyn?”

“Oh, she’s a citizen now. She’s platonically married to this dude whose name is, get this, Blaze. Isn’t that hilarious? She’s been married to him _forever._ Got her green card…and then got her _green_ card.” Holtz wiggles her eyebrows. “She’s in Vancouver now, like I said, but I don’t think she’s that into the city. It’s wicked expensive and lacks the charm of the Island. She’ll probably go back once weed is legalized and she’s out of a job.”

“Wow. That’s…really something.”

“She’s super cool. Maybe one day we’ll have to do this again and make a trip to the west coast. I’d love to meet my niece and nephew.”

“Maybe,” Erin murmurs. “So is that it, then? Did we finally make it through all the Holtzmann siblings?”

“That’s it,” Holtz says proudly. “Just the five of us. Mom and Dad sure did have their hands full.” She looks past Erin. “Speaking of which…”

Erin looks behind her to see Jade emerge from what must be her room. She glares at them. “Are you talking about me?”

“Only good things, kid,” Holtz says. “Are you running off?”

“Yeah. Keelan’s having a cookout rave.”

“I don’t know who that is or _what_ that is, but it can’t possibly be as exciting as seeing your long lost sister,” Holtz says.

“You’re not long lost, you just never visit. Or call.”

Holtz grimaces. “I’m gonna try to be better at that. But please? Stay? Pleeease?”

“Ugh, fine,” Jade says with a roll of her eyes. “But only for dinner. I’m not hanging out with you nerds all night.”

“We’re not nerds,” Erin says quietly, even though yeah, they are.

Jade stalks back into her room.

“Love you, kiddo,” Holtz calls at her retreating back.

“Whatever,” Jade says, and slams the door.

“Sweet girl,” Erin says.

“Hey, she’s a teenager. All teenagers are that snarky. Weren’t you?”

“No,” Erin says quickly. “Maybe.”

“She’s a good kid, really. I can’t believe how much she’s grown since the last time I saw her.”

“I believe you.”

“Good. Now come on.” Holtz nods her head down the hall. “Let’s go see my room.”

Erin smiles. “Now that’s something I’ve gotta see.”

 

_paint me all your pictures_

_hang them on my wall_

_show me all your colours_

_show me all_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. I've lived on Vancouver Island for most of my life and yes, everything Holtz says about it is true, even down to the building restriction thing. On this one island that I camped on every summer, there's a house shaped like a sphere. It's bizarre. Also.........Jaclyn the Marijuana Legalization Activist is based on the very-real sister of my friend, who lives in Vancouver and literally does that for a living. I'm still not sure who exactly pays her...forever a mystery.
> 
> In other news, I'm doing a [fic giveaway on Tumblr](http://jillbert.tumblr.com/post/160424649169/hey-everyone-maddiejillbertholtzbabe-here-i) so you should go check it out! You could win a oneshot about whatever your heart desires!


	6. trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fasten your seatbelts, everyone...things are about to get a tiny bit serious.

[trouble](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4l5SLs5u8A)

 

_I took a photograph of me_

_when I was only nineteen_

_I looked a little lost at sea_

_I keep trying to find me_

Stepping into Holtz’s childhood room is like stepping into a time capsule.

“Oh my god,” Erin says quietly. “This is overwhelming.”

Holtz scratches her neck. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

Erin takes in the multi-coloured walls, the posters of celebrities, bands, and TV shows, the artwork (both hung and painted directly on the wall), the strings of lights, the overflowing bookshelves, the desk piled high with paper and metal, the large empty glass terrarium, the massive burn mark on the rug…

“It is a lot,” Erin confirms. Then she realizes that Holtz looks _nervous._ “It’s very you,” she adds. “I like it.”

A slow smile spreads across Holtz’s face. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Erin looks up to examine the ceiling, painted straight black.

Holtz follows her gaze. “In my angsty years I wrote a lot of angsty things on the ceiling so I could angstily look at them and feel angsty. Then I grew out of it and painted over them.”

“Were you going to put stars up there?”

“Nah.”

“Oh.” Erin looks back down and takes a few steps closer to the burn mark on the rug. “What happened here? Invention explosion?”

Holtz coughs. “I dropped my cigarette and it went up like _that_. Serves me right for trying to get away with smoking in here.”

Erin’s mouth falls open. “You smoke? Holtzmann!”

“Not anymoooore.”

“But when you were a teenager?”

“Early twenties. Moved back here after my undergrad. I picked up the habit from my college ex.” Holtz’s voice has taken on a hard edge all of a sudden.

Erin changes the subject. “What lived in there?” She points to the empty terrarium.

“My python, Rosemary.”

Erin shudders. “Oh.”

“She escaped.”

“ _What?”_

“Kidding. I couldn’t take her with me when I went to college so we rehomed her to this awesome kid that lives nearby.”

“That’s cool,” Erin says, even though it is most definitely not cool. She’s repulsed by snakes.

They fall silent. Holtz fiddles with the arm of her glasses. Erin moves closer to the desk and examines a few framed photos on it. There’s one of a college-aged Holtz and a girl whose face has very clearly been burnt with the end of a cigarette. Erin pretends she doesn’t see it, and picks up another one beside it. She does a double take, and rubs at her eyes in case she’s seeing things. They _have_ been on the road for a long time.

“Is this…your mother?” Erin says.

“It’s me,” Holtz says, her voice hard again, defensive.

Erin blinks. Of all the things she’s seen and heard about Holtz so far, this is…

It’s Holtz, and she’s pregnant. Pregnant. Holtz. Holtz, pregnant.

“But…” Erin whispers. This has to be a joke. A Halloween costume, maybe. She looks up to see Holtz with her arms crossed.

“It’s real,” Holtz says.

“ _How?_ How did… _how?_ ” Erin splutters. “I don’t mean to be rude, but _how?”_

“Did you know that surrogate mothers can make up to $45,000?” Holtz says, her voice even and calm, as if they’re discussing breakfasts foods. No, screw that, Holtz has way more emotion when she talks about breakfast foods.

“I…did not know that. So you…you were…”

Holtz sighs. “I feel like we might need to go back to the beginning here.”

“Yes. Yes, we should do that.” Erin feels like she’s going to pass out. _What?_

Holtz strides over to the bookshelf and pulls a thick photo album off the bottom shelf. She plops onto her bed and pats the spot beside her for Erin to sit.

“Now, before I open this…” Holtz taps the dusty jacket of the book. “I just want you to know that you’re the first person who’s ever heard this full story. Even my parents don’t know every part of it.”

Erin swallows. “I’ll take it to my grave, if you want.” Did she speak too soon when she said she wanted to know every part of Holtz’s life?

“Good. Because this isn’t easy for me to talk about.” Holtz flips the album open and lays her finger on the first photograph, then looks up at Erin. “First, you should know that I was born in Cooperstown, New York, and we didn’t move here until after our road trip. I’ve never felt very connected to Florida, which is why I applied to colleges in New York. I got accepted to NYU and enrolled when I was 16.”

“Seriously?” Erin says.

“Yeah. Finished up all my high school requirements, and I was eager to get out of here. That’s me on my first day.” She runs her thumb along the border of the photo. “I finished in three years.”

“You said you double majored though.”

“I did.”

“You completed the requirements for two degrees in three years?”

“I did. And I met…” She flips the page, and Erin takes in a spread of photos of Holtz and a redheaded girl who’s obviously the same person in the burnt-face one on the desk. “Leah. My first real girlfriend. She was preeetty much an abusive asshole and thatwasareallybadtimeinmylife.” Holtz flips the page quickly. “I powered through my undergrad just to escape her, and moved back here when I was 19. I was miserable and angry at the world and I hated school and I pretty much sat up here for a whole year of my life.”

“Holtz…” Erin swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was over a decade ago now.” Holtz flips the page to a bunch of photos of her and Jaclyn. “So then I turned 20, and I had nowhere to be and I didn’t care about anything, and Jaclyn had just turned 18 and said she was moving to the west coast of Canada and wanted to know if I would join her. I said yes, packed up my limited belongings, and moved out there.” In all the photos, Holtz’s hair is long and scraggly, hanging almost to her waist.

“I stayed there for two years, smoked a lot, and blew through pretty much all my money. By the time I was 22, I was sorta spiraling. I was broke and I had no career prospects, plus my inheritance was locked up until I was 30, so I left Jaclyn behind and moved down to California to live with Jacob, who was doing _very_ well for himself. He let me crash with him and landed me a receptionist job at the company he worked for.”

Holtz has flipped to a photo of her, hair pulled back into a ponytail with sunglasses covering her eyes. She’s wearing a dress. Erin has never, ever, in her entire life, seen Holtz in a dress. It’s not even a funky dress; it’s the kind of dress a boring office worker would wear. Holtz is barely smiling in the photo.

“Also not a great time,” Holtz admits. “I felt like I was living a lie just to have a decent job. I couldn’t be myself, at least not in the daytime. I spent my nights partying, hitting up gay bars and hooking up with chicks in the back seats of cars. I hated what my life had become, so I quit the job after two months. Jake was annoyed but told me I could stay with him another month, and if I hadn’t found something else by then, he’d have to kick me out.”

Holtz turns the page to a photo of her with an arm slung around each of the two men standing on either side of her. “Enter Ben and Nathan. A girl I met at the bar one night heard that I was desperate for money and asked if I’d ever considered surrogating. She knew this great couple who were desperate to have a baby and were looking for someone young and healthy to carry for them. She gave me their contact info, and I went home and looked into it.

“As soon as I saw how much I’d make for an easy nine months, I was sold. Phoned them the next day and met up for an interview. They loved me. They said I had ‘spunk.’ Wanted to know if I’d consider being the egg donor too, pending medical history and psych evaluations and shit. I figured sure, why not. I didn’t want to raise kids of my own, so I thought it might be cool to have my genes passed on. Soon after that, I was cleared and I was signing the contracts and getting knocked up à la turkey baster.”

Erin still can’t believe any of this. _Holtz?_ Pregnant?

Holtz turns to more photos of her pregnant. Erin’s still convinced that this is some sort of joke, that these are photoshopped. But there she is in dozens of photos—holding up a sonogram with a wide grin; lying on a couch with her belly stretching her t-shirt and a bowl of macaroni and cheese resting on top of it; pointing both thumbs at her stomach with the two men on either side of her again. It’s all there.

“I got my first cheque at six weeks, when they got confirmation of the heartbeat,” Holtz says. “Everything was going great. I had everything compensated, even maternity clothes…although I mostly used that money to buy oversized shirts at second hand stores. I continued to stay with Jake. Ben and Nathan would come over all the time, take me out to nice dinners and stuff. They were so good to me.”

Erin can sense there’s something big coming. Holtz’s voice has become stiff, jerky, almost robotic.

Holtz flips the page. Erin expects to see more pictures, maybe even pictures of the baby, but the next page is empty. She glances at Holtz, who’s staring straight ahead.

“You don’t have to tell me the rest,” Erin says softly. She has a horrible feeling in her gut. Did Holtz miscarry?

“No, I want to. This is just the part that nobody but Jake knows about. Not even my own mother.”

Holtz gets up from the bed abruptly, leaving the photo album in her place, and goes to stand in front of the window with her back to Erin. Erin waits.

“I thought it would be easy,” Holtz says without turning around. Her voice shakes. “I thought it would be like getting paid to carry around a sack of flour for nine months. I didn’t _want_ a baby. I thought—”

Holtz whips around, her face suddenly ashen and pained. Erin stands at once, but doesn’t know if she should close the distance to embrace her or leave her be. This situation is unprecedented. She doesn’t know how to deal with this. She doesn’t know what Holtz’s about to say, and she doesn’t know if she’s ready to hear whatever it is.

Holtz’s face crumples in defeat.

“I left, Erin.”

Erin blinks. Of all the things she thought Holtz would say, that wasn’t one of them. “Left?”

“We found out that it was a girl. Suddenly it wasn’t a sack of flour anymore.”

Erin doesn’t know what to say. Her mouth is dry.

“In retrospect, now I know that it was hormones and shit messing with my brain, but I…I got it in my head that I wanted her, Erin.  I didn’t want them to take her away from me. So I told Jacob to keep his mouth shut, and I booked flights to Denmark.”

“ _Denmark?_ ”

“I’d always wanted to go to art school there. I thought I could start a new life.”

“Holtz…”

“I know. Believe me, I know. I’ve spent the last 10 years thinking about it and I feel sick every time I do. I was a kid, Erin. I didn’t…”

Erin steps closer and takes hold of Holtz’s hands. “What happened?” For a second, Erin wonders if Holtz lied about Jade’s background, and she’s actually…Erin can’t finish that thought.

“I came to my senses, obviously. Stayed there for about two months, took some classes, and couldn’t stop thinking about Ben and Nathan and how heartbroken they must’ve been. I realized that I was being selfish and stupid and that I didn’t _actually_ want a baby…I mean Jesus, could you imagine me with a baby? At 23, no less? I could barely take care of myself.” Holtz shakes her head. “So I flew back. Ben and Nathan were tremendously pissed, but relieved…although I don’t think they were truly relieved until I gave birth and handed them their daughter. Well, ‘gave birth’ is a stretch. I had to get a C-section after 36 hours of labour, which was pretty annoying because it wasn’t covered under my compensation. That was probably karma biting me in the ass for taking off. But it all worked out, and now I’ve got a sick scar to show for it.”

Erin drops Holtz’s hands. “That’s all you have to say? You gave up a baby, and all you have to say is that you got a ‘sick scar’ out of it?”

Holtz shrugs exaggeratedly, back to her usual bravado. “Whaddya want me to say? It was a long time ago and I don’t talk about it. Ever.”

Erin softens. “I know. Thank you for telling me. This is just…a lot to process. I mean, I never would’ve guessed this in a billion years about you.”

“I know. I’ve got lots more secrets where that came from.” Holtz winks.

“More? What else could there possibly be?”

“You already know more than anyone. Don’t push your luck.”

Erin tries to digest all that she just heard. “So what happened after that? How’d you get from having a baby in California to…this?”

“I left. Right away. Applied to grad school just before the deadline because I missed engineering. Got accepted to MIT and moved there as soon as I could. Did my master’s, then stuck around and beasted through my doctorate. Some harsh life lessons and real talk from Dr. Gorin was exactly what I needed after having my life so chaotic for so long. She set me straight—well, not ‘straight,’ but you know what I mean. And Abby was living in Boston at the time—”

“She was? I didn’t know she ever lived in Boston.”

“Well, you had sorta abandoned her…” Holtz points out.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry for interrupting. Continue…Abby was in Boston…”

“I met her at a conference. She was on a panel, trying to convince everyone that the paranormal was a valid science, and I was a few years out from defending my thesis. I was fascinated by her, and thought she was exactly the kind of person I wanted to work with. She told me to give her a call when I was done. So I did…and it turns out she had moved to New York to take a job at a school there. It seemed like the perfect sign. So, back to New York I went, where I joined her at the Institute…and the rest is history, as they say.”

“How long had you been there when I found you?”

“A little over a year. Abby and I became fast friends. She was the first real friend I ever had. We just clicked, you know?”

“I’m glad you found her,” Erin says.

“Me too. I ended up in a pretty cool place, huh? Never thought I’d be part of the first team of paranormal investigators, but here we are. Never thought I’d do a lot of things, but that’s the fun of life. I don’t have any regrets. Not one.”

At that moment, a male voice shouts a greeting from downstairs. Erin had almost forgotten where they are.

Holtz perks up. “Dad’s home! C’mon Gilbert, I gotta introduce you to my old man.”

Just like that, they leave all the heaviness behind with the photo album. Erin knows she won’t be able to stop thinking it for a long time. Just because they’re leaving the room, doesn’t mean the information won’t stay with her. For the first time since she’s known Holtz, she has actual facts about her life. Whenever Holtz talks about her past, she always does it in a way that makes it really hard to tell if she’s joking or serious. But this…there’s no denying any of this, not when there’s photographic evidence. Erin has gotten the rare chance to _really_ learn about Holtz’s life, and she’s not likely to forget any of it.

 

Holtz’s father, Frank, is nothing like Erin expected he’d be like, but he makes as much sense as any of this does. He’s tall and bald and he’s always smiling. He’s overjoyed to see them.

Ann says she’s pretty much done cooking, so they call Jade down and settle around a large kitchen table to eat.

“Did you get some good family stories out of our girl?” Ann asks as she passes the salad bowl to Erin.

Erin glances at Holtz and serves herself a pile of salad. “I heard a lot, actually. I’m intrigued by the road trip you took.”

“Oh, that? That was a hoot. Did Jillian tell you about when our car broke down in Arizona? Now that was something.”

Soon, Frank and Ann are trading stories from the trip. Erin listens to them in enjoyment while Holtz tries to engage in conversation with Jade.

It’s weird, Erin thinks, to be eating dinner with a real, proper family like this and listening to them talk about the memories they’ve shared together. Her own parents never sat them down for meals. They could barely stand to be in the same room as each other. She certainly never went on family vacations or the like. Despite it all, she feels strangely at home with the Holtzmanns, like she belongs right here at this table with them.

Jade excuses herself after a while to whatever event she was talking about earlier, and the rest of them help to clean up the dishes and then relocate to the living room. Erin sits on the couch she sat on earlier, and Holtz stretches out with her feet in her lap. Ann sits in her armchair, and Frank takes up residence on the other couch.

“So, Erin, tell me about yourself,” Frank says. He takes a sip from his Rum and Coke and sets the glass down on the end table.

Erin sits up straighter. “Well, I’m a particle physicist. I was a professor at Columbia University for years before I joined the Ghostbusters.”

“A genius like our Jillian, huh?” He smirks, and Erin can see Holtz in him there.

“Not quite,” Erin says. She glances at Holtz. “I’m just the one who runs the numbers. Your daughter’s the one who brings my theories to life.”

Holtz rotates her foot to jab Erin’s torso. “Erin’s being modest. She’s the best particle physicist out there and she’s got a brain like a computer.”

“I don’t know about that,” Erin mutters.

Ann chuckles. “So do you have family? Where are you from originally?”

Erin stiffens at the topic. She’s been thinking a lot about her own family since arriving here and meeting Holtz’s. “I’m from Michigan. Battle Creek. My parents still live there. I don’t really speak to them anymore.” She says the last part quietly in the hopes that they won’t dwell on it.

They seem to notice her discomfort in talking about them. Ann shifts in her seat and offers a warm smile. “Any siblings?”

Erin nods once. “One brother.”

Holtz removes her feet from Erin’s lap and clambers upright, clearly interested. She’s not the only one who doesn’t talk about her personal life.

Holtz unleashes a stream of questions. “What’s his name? How old is he? Where does he live? What—”

Erin holds up a finger to quiet her. “His name is Eddie, he’s 43, and he lives in Australia.”

Holtz’s face screws up. “But…you’re 43. Right?”

“We’re twins.”

“ _Twins?_ You never told me you have a twin!”

“You never told me about all this.” Erin gestures at their surroundings.

“Touché.”

Ann clears her throat. “So Australia, that’s pretty far, hmm?”

“He moved there for school and liked it so much he never left,” Erin says. It’s a bit of a touchy subject and she’s stretching the truth a tiny bit, but they don’t have to know that.

“Nice country,” Holtz says.

“You’ve been?”

“When she was—how old would she have been on that trip, Frank?”

“Eleven? Twelve?”

“When she was eleven or twelve,” Ann repeats with a nod.

“Where _haven’t_ you been?” Erin asks, eager to steer the conversation away from herself.

“Antarctica,” Holtz offers. “Russia. The Middle East. Most of the countries in Africa. Texas.”

“You haven’t been to Texas?”

“She’s understating,” Frank says. “There’s a lot more places that she hasn’t seen.”

Holtz is still listing. “Paraguay. Greenland. Indonesia.”

Ann waves her hand. “Okay, enough of that. We’ll be here all day.”

Erin glances at her watch. “Yeah, and it’s starting to get late. We should maybe get going.”

“Get going? Where?” Ann shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. Of course you’ll stay here tonight. I don’t want you driving in the dark, and why bother spending money on a hotel when you can stay here?”

Erin meets Holtz’s eyes and watches her shrug. “She has a point,” Holtz says.

“Please stay,” Ann adds. “We hardly ever get to see Jillian anymore.”

Erin can’t argue with that.

 

Frank takes her to the guest room down the hall from Holtz’s bedroom. He leaves her with a stack of towels and shows her the extravagant guest bathroom where she can shower the next morning, then wishes her goodnight and takes off. Erin changes and sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the painting on the wall that she now recognizes as being one of Holtz’s.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Erin calls.

The door opens and Holtz peers in. “You all set in here?”

“I am, thank you.”

Holtz opens the door all the way and leans in the doorframe. She’s dressed in an old, oversized faded band shirt, probably from her teenage years. Her legs are bare.

“I’m sorry we got guilted into staying here.”

Erin shakes her head. “No! I’m glad we are. Spending time with your family is good, right?”

Holtz hesitates. “Right.” She rubs her neck. “Well, goodnight then. If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”

Erin smiles. “Thanks, Holtz. Have a good sleep.”

“You too.” Then Holtz darts into the room. Erin tenses up. Holtz gets to the bed and reaches out to run her fingers through Erin’s hair. A second later, she holds up a tiny white thing between her thumb and index finger. “Sorry, there was a piece of fluff in your hair and it was bothering me,” Holtz says sheepishly. Then she gives a little wave and disappears where she came from, shutting the door softly behind her.

“Thanks,” Erin says, but she’s too late, and Holtz is gone.

She flops back onto the massive bed with a groan and stares up at the ceiling. Who would’ve thought that she’d end up here, in the guest room of Holtzmann’s parents’ house? What is her life?

She shuts off the light and crawls properly under the sheets, the blanket pushed aside in the heat. The bed is probably one of the most comfortable beds she’s ever been in, but she’s still restless. She can’t help but think of Holtz a few doors down, alone under her black ceiling and surrounded by difficult memories, and wish that she was here instead.

 

_oh quiet down, I’ve had enough_

_I guess it’s now or never_

_I’ve been around, I’ve settled up_

_I’ll bolt soon or later_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: "I want to prolong posting this chapter because it's technically the start of the angst train."  
> Jillian, who has already read the next 6 chapters and knows exactly what's coming after this: "LET THEM SUFFER WITH ME."  
> Just so you know who's to blame. ;) jk I take full responsibility. 
> 
> ANYWAY I'M VERY SCARED/EXCITED/INTERESTED TO HEAR YOUR REACTIONS TO THIS ONE. LET ME HEAR THEM.


	7. release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't keep from posting new chapters of this fic, can I? I'm currently writing the second-to-last chapter and I'm so much in THAT headspace that I keep forgetting how far behind I am in posting and getting antsy for you to read everything else. So HERE! Also it's 12:30am and I should really, really sleep.

[release](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WnY1MpPw2fw)

_twenty miles from anyone_

_set my sights on the setting sun_

_heaven talks but not to me_

_’cause heaven knows that nothing good comes free_

Erin wakes up the next morning to sun filtering through the slatted blinds and rolls to her side to check the clock on the bedside table. It’s almost 9:00am, which is the latest she’s slept in in a while without Holtz there to wake her up. She grabs her phone and unplugs the charger, then rolls onto her back and unlocks it. There are a few texts from both Patty and Abby, and a missed call from Kevin. She dials her voicemail and listens to his message.

“ _Hi boss, I accidentally spilt orange juice on my keyboard so I’m going to go buy a new one. Be back later._ ”

She sighs and deletes the message, then opens the texts from Abby.

[8:39am] Abby: _Kevin’s gone. I swear he was here ten minutes ago. He usually tells one of us when he leaves. Did he get Kevinnapped???_

[8:41am] Abby: _There’s oj all over his desk. Did he leave because he thought we’d yell at him?_

Erin shakes her head and types out a message.

[8:57am] Erin: _He left me a voicemail saying he was out buying a new keyboard._

Abby’s reply is instantaneous, as it usually is.

[8:57am] Abby: _KEVIN. Ugh. Sorry for bothering you on your ‘vacation’. Where are you now?_

[9:01am] Erin: _Jacksonville. Did you know Holtzmann’s family lives in Florida?_

[9:02am] Abby: _What?????? You met her family?? I don’t know anything about them. You know she never talks about them. What are they like?_

[9:05am] Erin: _They’re nice. I’ll tell you more when we get back._

She feels a little rush of pride when she remembers that she’s the first person Holtz has shared all this with. It makes her feel important.

There’s a text from Patty too, from last night.

[11:09pm] Patty: _where r you guys tonight? come back soon. abby misses you but she won’t say it_

[9:09am] Erin: _Jacksonville, FL, visiting Holtzmann’s family. Tell Abby we miss her and can’t wait to be back. XOXO._

She sets her phone back on the bedside table and kicks off the sheet covering her legs, then climbs off the bed. She grabs the stack of thick plush guest towels and opens the door, nearly tripping on a pile of fabric just outside. She bends down to see that it’s fresh clothes with a post it note that just has a smiley face and a scrawled H. She smiles as she picks up the pile and stacks it on top of the towels, then she goes next door to the guest bathroom.

 

After she’s showered and changed into the sundress that clearly belongs to Ann, Erin heads downstairs. She stops in the foyer to admire Holtz’s paintings, then wanders down the hall towards the kitchen. She pauses just around the corner when she hears Holtz and Ann talking.

“—really lovely. I can see why you like her. Why didn’t you tell me about her? I know you’re private about your love life, but—”

“Mom, we’re not dating.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes,_ I’m sure. She’s my friend.”

Erin holds her breath. Wait, are they talking about _her?_

“Fine, fine. You like her though. I can tell.”

“Of course I like her. She’s my friend. I like all my friends…that’s why we’re friends.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“She likes you too.”

“Enough. I’m not a teenager. I’m leaving.”

Ann laughs, and then there’s the sound of a sliding door opening and closing.

Erin tiptoes back to the foyer, waits for a few seconds, and then makes a big show of walking loudly back towards the kitchen. When she rounds the corner, Ann is at the table, sipping from a mug. She beams when she sees Erin, and if she knows that she was listening, she gives no indication.

“Erin! Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Thank you for the clothes.” She gestures at the dress.

“You’re very welcome. There’s coffee on, juice in the fridge, and I made muffins. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

Erin smiles and pours herself some coffee, then takes a seat across from Ann with her mug and a muffin. She can feel Ann watching her as she tears a piece off of the muffin and eats it.

“How has Jillian been?” Ann asks finally.

Erin looks up. “Sorry?”

“She was struggling a bit before she met Abby, I know. How is she now? Is she happy?”

“Yes,” Erin says right away. “She seems very happy. She loves the work she does and she’s always talking about how we’re like family to her.”

Ann nods, pleased with that answer. “I’m glad she met you,” she says.

Erin isn’t sure if Ann means all of them or just Erin, but her grip tightens on her mug regardless. “I’m glad too,” she says, “and I’m glad I met her. She’s a special person, and anyone who gets to have her in their life is very lucky.”

“I agree,” Ann says, “and I’m glad you know that. Don’t take her presence for granted. I miss her every day.”

Erin swallows. “I’ll try to work on that. Urge her to call once in a while.”

“That would be appreciated. I know she doesn’t mean to block us out. That’s just who she is, you know? She doesn’t let people close. Even her own parents.”

“I know,” Erin says. “I know.”

 

Erin finishes up her breakfast and loads her dishes in the dishwasher. “Where’s Hol—Jillian?”

“Out back,” Ann says.

Erin slides open the door that leads to the backyard and steps out past the patio and onto the lawn, the grass tickling her bare feet. She doesn’t see Holtz anywhere.

“Holtz?” she calls.

“Up here!”

Erin looks around to see where Holtz’s voice is coming from.

“In the treehouse,” Holtz adds.

Erin spots it, then, the large structure taking up residence in one of the trees. Holtz’s head is poking out the window.

“What are you doing up there?” Erin stares up at her as she crosses the lawn.

“Come up and find out.”

Erin reaches the treehouse and peers up at the closed trap door. “How?”

The door swings open and Holtz’s face appears there. “Move.”

Erin steps out of the way and suddenly a rope ladder comes unfurling down right where she was standing before. She takes hold of it and gives it a tug. “I don’t know if this will hold me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Holtz disappears from view again.

Erin bites her lip and plants her foot on the bottom rung. It seems pretty strong. She grabs tight on either side and brings her other foot up to the next rung. The whole ladder swings. Determined, she continues on up the ladder as it sways with her weight. When she gets near the top, she calls Holtz’s name again.

“Just keep going,” Holtz says.

Erin continues to climb and emerges through the trap door. She looks up to see that the ladder is hung from the ceiling. She climbs until she can reach and touch her foot to the floor, then she awkwardly maneuvers herself off the ladder. Holtz pulls up the ladder and hangs the base to a hook on the wall so it’s out of the way, then shuts the trap door.

She spreads her arms wide. “Welcome.”

Erin looks around in wonder at the roomy treehouse. “I’ve never been in one of these.”

There’s a loft built right into the structure, battery-operated fairy lights strung around, a well-used beanbag chair, a cooler, and various tools and half-finished projects.

“Well, you picked a good one for your first time. Built it myself when I was 10.”

“You built this? By yourself?”

“My dad helped a bit, but I designed the whole thing and did most of the work. Here, take a seat. You can have the chair.”

Erin lowers herself into the beanbag chair. Holtz takes a seat on the floor.

“Did you ever sleep in here?” Erin looks up at the bare loft.

“All the time. I used to keep a sleeping bag up there permanently. In the summer I was out here every night. See the window? I used to have a pulley system rigged up from here to my bedroom window, and I’d transport food and stuff in. I wanted to build a zipline so I could go to and from the house, but Mom made me take it down as soon as she saw it.”

Erin laughs. They fall into silence. Holtz picks up some jumbled mess of metal and wire and turns it in her hands. Erin watches her and thinks about what she overheard earlier and her conversation with Ann.

“Hey, thanks for bringing me here, Holtz.”

“To my treehouse?”

“To your house. To meet your family. And tell me all those things about your past. I know…I know you’re a pretty private person, and I understand how hard it must’ve been to share your life story with me. I just want you to know that I’m really happy you did.”

Holtz picks up a nearby screwdriver and fiddles with the machine in her lap without meeting Erin’s eyes. She bobs her head in a nod.

Erin continues. “And if you ever want to talk more about…any of it…I’m here.”

Holtz’s tongue pokes out between her teeth and her brow furrows as she concentrates. She’s silent for a minute, and Erin figures she’s not going to reply.

“You’re still thinking about the baby thing,” Holtz says finally. Not a question, just a statement.

Erin hesitates. Should she lie? Pretend like it’s not a big deal? “Yes,” she admits.

“Do you want to know more, or?” Holtz still hasn’t looked up.

“Only if you want to tell me more,” Erin says quickly. “I just know you haven’t ever really talked about it with anyone, so if you want to…I’m here. But if that’s as much as you want to share, then that’s okay.”

Holtz is quiet again except for the sound of her screwdriver clinking. Erin waits.

“What do you want to know?”

There’s lot, but Erin decides to go for one that’s less invasive. “What’s the baby’s name? Do you know?”

Holtz snuffs. “She’s not a baby anymore. She’s ten now.”

“Right.” Erin can hardly picture Holtz with a baby, let alone a ten-year-old kid. Does she look like Holtz?

“Emily.”

“Emily? That’s her name?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” Holtz has a 10-year-old daughter named Emily. That seems like a sentence that shouldn’t exist.

The machine in Holtz’s hand sparks.

Erin watches it. “Have you seen her since…”

The ‘she was born’ hangs in the air, unspoken.

“No.”

“At all? Do they send photos?”

“No.”

Erin frowns. “But you’re…she’s your…why wouldn’t they…”

Holtz looks up finally. “Do you blame them? I tried to steal their daughter. Plus, that’s not part of our contract. I could’ve asked to be involved, but I didn’t.”

“Have you ever asked since, though? Do you talk to them?”

“No.” Holtz looks back down and picks at a wire. “Once.”

“Once?” Erin doesn’t want to pry, but this is all so fascinating that she can’t seem to stop.

“A few months ago.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I guess…I guess she had always asked about her mother, which makes sense…and they told her when she was ten they could…she could…” Holtz scrunches up her face. It sounds like she can’t figure out the words. She lifts her butt to pull out her wallet from her back pocket and flips it open, pulling a folded sheet of paper from behind a stack of bills. She pauses for a moment, then hands it to Erin.

It’s clearly been folded and unfolded many times. The creases are worn. Erin carefully unfolds it and sees that it’s a letter, written in the print of a child. Erin immediately feels intrusive and looks up at Holtz.

“I won’t read this if you don’t want me to,” she says.

Holtz fiddles with her hands. “Maybe…”

“Say no more.” Erin folds up the letter and passes it back to Holtz, who looks relieved.

“Thanks. Sorry, I thought…”

“It’s okay.”

“She wants to meet me.”

“Oh. And her parents…”

“Would allow it.”

“And you…”

Holtz thumbs her ear. “I don’t know.”

“Are you scared?”

She nods.

Erin senses that she’s not going to get much more out of Holtz, so she backs off. “So, what’s our plan for today? Are we hanging around here?”

“There’s somewhere I want to take you, but then we can head out.”

“Okay. We can stay another day, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. We’ll just have to come back, right?” Holtz offers a meek smile.

“Right,” Erin agrees. “Where do you want to take me?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

“Should I be scared?”

“With me? Always a little.”

Isn’t that the truth.

 

Apparently they can walk wherever it is that they’re going, which Erin is thankful for. She’s even more thankful that Ann has volunteered to wash all their clothes while they’re gone. Intense summer heat plus no access to a washing machine is not a combination Erin’s a fan of.

She borrows a pair of sandals from Ann as well, giving her feet a chance to breathe for the first time in days.

Holtz assures her that she doesn’t need to bring anything, so she leaves behind everything at the house and they set out. It’s a quiet walk, and Erin can tell that Holtz is pretty deep in thought. She tries not to let it worry her.

She realizes where they’re going when she sees the beach access sign.

“Wait, are we going to the ocean?” she says excitedly.

“Sure are. I promised, remember?”

They step out onto the beach and Erin immediately takes off her sandals and lets her bare feet sink into the light sand. The ocean stretches out in front of them, calm and glistening. The water is the most beautiful shade of blue that Erin has ever seen.

“It’s breathtaking.”

“It’s something, alright.” Holtz’s voice is still a little guarded.

Erin hazards a glance at her, and takes in her tense stance, the way her hand is up shielding her eyes from the sun, the way her lips are pursed.

“Should we sit?” Erin asks.

“Sure,” Holtz grunts.

They head down the beach a little and take a seat in the sand. Erin pretends to watch the waves lap the shore, but really she’s watching Holtz in her peripherals.

Finally, Erin can’t keep from asking. She’s going to start getting anxious. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Holtz sounds distracted. “I’m fine.”

She definitely doesn’t sound fine.

Erin wonders if she regrets telling her about everything, and that’s why she’s acting weird and distant. Or maybe she’s just dealing with a lot of difficult memories after talking about her past. Or maybe she’s not thinking about any of that stuff at all, and she’s actually thinking about what Ann said to her that morning about liking Erin.

Or maybe Erin’s just overthinking this, and Holtz really is fine. God knows Erin’s good at overthinking.

 

They sit there in silence for a while, and Erin’s mind won’t stop trying to find a way to fix this. After a while, she starts to get antsy and stands, smoothing the sand from her dress.

“I’m going walk along the water,” she says. “You want to come?”

Holtz shakes her head, not taking her eyes off the horizon.

Defeated, Erin pads off towards the shore. When she reaches it, she lets a wave wash over her toes and sighs.

Maybe this will all blow over. It’s possible that Holtz just needs some time and space. Erin’s never seen her shut down like this, but it sounds like it isn’t the first time. She wonders if Ann would have any tips on snapping her out of a temporary funk like this…or would that be weird to ask?

Would Abby know what to do?

Erin walks the length of the beach, ankle deep in water, and when she finally stops and turns she sees that Holtz is just a speck in the distance.

She walks back slowly to prolong her return, and she comes up with a bit of a game plan.

Holtz shared some of her darkest secrets yesterday. Maybe Erin needs to do the same.

 

_I’ll take your word_

_cause after all, you’ve never lied, not at all_

_but look at me, what a mess_

_I get caught up in the things that matter the least_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you want a break from Imagine Dragons and/or are disappointed by how short this chapter's song is, you should give [Emily](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4rnD3628N4) by San Fermin a listen because it's very relevant to this chapter. I'd been listening to a lot of San Fermin back around the time I wrote this chapter, and when it came time to name the kid, Emily was the first name that jumped to mind. It was a while later that I realized why, and I think the subconscious associations went beyond just having heard the name recently, because that song is kind of perfect for both the Holtz in this chapter and 23 year old Holtz. ANYWAY it's also just a good song, so...
> 
> Lemme know what you think! (Of the chapter, but if you listen to the song you can let me know your thoughts on that too)


	8. thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaannnd we're back.

[thief](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tC6tJP5lWQ)

 

_if only you, you could see, the darkest place that you could be_

_maybe then you’d understand_

_from desert heat to cobbled streets, from broken home to the city beat_

_there’s so much more than you could know_

 

When Erin reaches Holtz again, the engineer looks slightly more present than she did before. She looks up when Erin gets there.

“I’m hungry,” she says. “You wanna go get ice cream?”

“Ice cream? At…” Erin checks her watch. “11:30am?”

“Yes?”

If it’ll perk Holtz up, then Erin will do anything. “Sure. I assume you know a good place around here?”

“You know it, banana split.”

Erin smiles. There, now she sounds like her old self. “That was a good one. Thematically appropriate.”

Holtz smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

 

They get cones at a nearby ice cream parlour. Erin gets plain vanilla and Holtz gets some sort of rainbow concoction. They walk through the streets as they eat them, and at least this time their silence is excusable.

It’s already hot, and Erin’s ice cream is rapidly melting and running down to bleed onto the napkin wrapped around the cone. The whole thing is becoming a sticky mess.

How fitting.

“Holtz, can you hand me a napkin?”

Holtz silently passes her a stack, and Erin tries to clean up to no avail.

“I need water,” she grumbles.

“You might get your wish,” Holtz says.

“Huh?”

Holtz points at the sky, which has turned a dark grey. “Looks like we might be in for a classic Florida thunderstorm.”

“Shoot, really?”

As she says that, a drop of water splashes onto her arm. Then another on her head.

Then, the loudest thunder Erin’s ever heard booms overhead, and Holtz jumps, releasing her cone in her surprise. It falls to the pavement almost in slow motion.

Erin expects a typical Holtzmann overdramatic reaction to losing her ice cream, but Holtz just stares at it for a second and then doesn’t say anything.

Okay, this is worse than Erin thought.

It’s really raining now. “We should get inside,” Erin says. There’s a flash of lightening that looks like it’s just down the road, and Erin’s heart stops. She chucks her own ice cream into a nearby garbage can. “Right now,” she adds.

They duck into a coffee shop. Erin watches the pavement turn dark and the rain mix with Holtz’s fallen ice cream for a few moments, then turns to Holtz, whose face is a blank mask.

“Let’s sit,” Erin commands. She gets them a table in the corner by the window and orders herself a coffee and Holtz a hot chocolate. Once she has their drinks, she sits across from Holtz, who’s staring emptily out the window.

“Thanks,” she says when Erin slides her the hot chocolate.

Erin blows on her coffee to cool it. This could be her chance to enact her plan. “So,” she begins, “you were really honest with me yesterday, and I feel like now I should be honest with you.”

Holtz cocks her head and takes a sip from her mug.

Erin takes that as a sign to continue. She takes a deep breath. “There’s more to the crazy thing than I let on. There are things…that not even Abby knows about.”

Holtz nods once.

Erin hangs her head. Why can’t she say it, even this many years later?

“You know already that my parents never believed me. About the ghost. They sent me to therapist after therapist that first year, when I was eight. I was only eight.” She swallows and closes her eyes. “In the beginning, the doctors said it was night terrors, then they all said I was making the ghost up for attention because my parents didn’t interact with me much, but then when I wouldn’t drop it, they started to think I was experiencing hallucinations. They said they might be a result of anxiety…paranoia…abuse…grief over the loss of my neighbour, which I knew was crap because I was terrified of her.”

Erin taps the pad of her finger rapidly on the side of her mug, slightly burning it. “Then she disappeared. One night, she just didn’t come. It took me weeks, _months_ of her not coming to consider that maybe it was over. It was at least a year before I stopped waking up in anticipatory terror every night. I didn’t know what to say to my therapist. I told the truth—that she had stopped visiting me. He thought that was a sign that the therapy was working.”

She falls silent. Holtz doesn’t say anything. Erin is too scared to meet her eyes.

“I wouldn’t let it go, though. I kept adamant that there had been a ghost, and so I had to keep going to therapy until I was ‘fixed.’ My parents’ words. Of course, the kids at school found out by the time I was 10, and that’s when the rumours really flew. I was crazy, I was taking medication, I hallucinated things, I was seeing a psychiatrist, I believed in ghosts…Ghost Girl was the tamest name they called me. I lost all my friends, who were all scared of me. Not a single person aside from teachers spoke to me, unless it was to insult me.”

Erin glances up then, just for a brief moment. Holtz’s face is calm. She looks back down into her mug.

“It was constant. Everybody, even my own parents, even my _twin brother,_ thought I was crazy and made sure I knew it. It just pushed me to fight everyone even harder…literally. I started getting in so many fights at school that—” she breaks off, catching herself out of habit before she goes too far, but then she remembers that’s the point. She’s supposed to be sharing everything with Holtz.

She takes another deep breath. “My psychiatrist told my parents that my delusions were causing me to become violent when challenged, and he recommended that they commit me to a youth psychiatric ward until I was no longer a threat. I was thirteen. And…they did it.”

Erin pauses to take a sip from her coffee, which is now lukewarm.

“I don’t think they really believed that I was dangerous. I think they were just looking for an excuse to get rid of me for a while.” She blinks back sudden tears. “I was there for three months, and during that time…my memories became hazier, tainted by everyone else’s opinions and by the environment I was in. I didn’t know if I could trust myself anymore. I was so sure of myself before, and now there was a cloud of doubt surrounding every thought that passed through my mind.

“I could barely remember what the ghost looked like and all the details were muddled in my head about her visits, and the voices of everyone around me were louder than my own feeble voice. It was terrifying. I started to wonder…if I _was_ crazy.” She says the last word so quietly that Holtz might not even hear her.

“I sank into depression at the notion that maybe I had been wrong the whole time, that maybe I _couldn’t_ trust myself, and…I…I gave up fighting. I surrendered to what everyone said I was. I told my therapists and doctors what they had wanted to hear for so many years: The ghost wasn’t real. And part of me believed it.”

“Seriously?”

It’s jarring to hear Holtz. She’d been quiet for so long that Erin was almost starting to feel like she was talking to herself.

“Yes,” she says. “And I’m not kidding when I say I gave up. They had to…put me on antidepressants because I wouldn’t leave my room at the hospital.”

“No shame in that,” Holtz says softly. “I’ve been there.”

“Really?”

Holtz nods. “In my year here after college. Everyone was pretty concerned about me. Went off them when some of the Canadian hippies I befriended convinced me that pharmaceutical drugs were the devil. Started again at Dr. Gorin’s insistence when I lived in Boston, but by the time I moved to New York, I was doing well without them.”

“Oh,” Erin says. “I was…I was still on them until about six months ago.” She’s never told anyone that, but she feels like Holtz will understand.

Holtz nods again like she does understand. “Sorry for interrupting your story. You were in the hospital…what happened next?”

Erin traces patterns on the tabletop. “Everyone was ‘very impressed’ by my improvements. I was discharged and went back to school, still miserable, where everyone now had ‘proof’ that I was crazy because they all knew where I’d been for three months. I kept my head down and prayed that if I didn’t react, they’d get bored and get over it eventually. They didn’t…but it did slow down.

“Then Abby started at my school, heard about everything, and was the first person to talk to me sincerely about it in a good five years. It took me a while to trust her enough to admit that I _did_ believe it was a ghost, and it took me even longer to trust her word that she believed me. And then for the first time since my stint in the hospital, I had faith in my memories again, and faith that I maybe I wasn’t crazy after all. She was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

“Ditto. Funny how she does that.”

“I’m so thankful that I have her back in my life, and you guys too. You make it easier…” Erin bites her lip. “My parents still don’t believe me, even now that we have proof that ghosts are real. I think they might actually know the truth, but they would never admit it or try to reconcile our relationship. Ever since I was fired from Columbia and we formed the Ghostbusters, they’ve completely shut me out. They even…they changed their phone number so I can’t contact them.”

Holtz visibly winces. “Erin…”

“I’ve accepted it,” Erin says, even though she doesn’t think she’s ever going to actually accept it.

“And Eddie?”

“Eddie…Eddie came around. When we started making news, he got ahold of me and apologized for not believing me. But I still…I haven’t seen him in 25 years. He, um…he’s gay. And my parents…they don’t…they aren’t accepting of that. So he moved to the other side of the world so he would never have to see them again. I don’t think he realized that he was unintentionally pushing me out of his life as well. I know I could book a ticket to go see him at any time, but…truthfully, until he contacted me, I was okay not seeing him because he’d tormented me as much as my parents had. I’ve only now forgiven him for that because I realize there were a lot of factors involved. But there are still oceans between us.”

Erin shifts nervously in her seat. “Anyway, that’s…it. That’s all. Now you know. Even Abby doesn’t know about the psych ward. She didn’t listen to what everyone else said about me. She figured it was all rumours, and I didn’t want to correct her.”

Holtz licks her lips and looks thoughtful for a moment. “I’ve always been curious—and you don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want—about why you ever left Abby. What happened? I’ve only ever heard…well, her side of it. Only if you want to tell me, though.”

Erin hesitates. “Well, I’m sure you heard about the TV interview we were supposed to do.”

Holtz nods once in confirmation.

Erin looks down in shame at her mostly-untouched coffee. “I had taken the manuscript to my graduate advisor at Princeton for his opinion…without telling Abby. The morning of the interview, I met with him. He told me if I published it, I would ruin my academic reputation forever. He said I needed to destroy the evidence, or I would be throwing away my career before it started.

“But the last straw, what really got to me, was when he said that everyone would think I was crazy. And I knew in that moment that there was no way I could go through that again. I made my decision that day—I would turn my back on Abby and the book, and I would pretend that there was no such thing as ghosts for the rest of my life.”

“Why didn’t you tell Abby instead of letting her be humiliated on TV?”

Erin shrinks away from Holtz’s bluntness. “I was a coward, and I knew that she was so passionate that she would convince me to publish the book anyway. And I couldn’t let that happen. I’m not going to deny that it was wrong to shut her out like that…it was the lowest moment of my life and I’ve regretted doing that to her ever since, and I know I’ll regret it until the day I die.”

They fall silent for a few minutes. Erin swirls the coffee in her mug. She takes a sip, but then pushes the rest aside. It’s not good room-temperature like this.

“The storm stopped,” Holtz says finally.

Erin sure hopes so.

 

They walk back to Holtz’s parents’ house. Holtz seems like she’s back to being distant, which means Erin’s plan didn’t work and she just told all her secrets for nothing. And what’s worse, Holtz hasn’t really said anything in response to it all. What if she’s going to see Erin differently now?

Back at the house, Ann greets them with lunch and wants to know all about their beach adventure.

All Holtz says is: “We got chased inside by the storm.”

Something crosses Ann’s face, and Erin just _knows_ that she notices that something is off with Holtz too.

This has got to be Erin’s fault, somehow. She pushed too hard to hear about Holtz’s past. She should’ve left well enough alone and accepted that she was a private person for a reason.

How was she supposed to know this would happen, though?

 

After they eat lunch, they head upstairs to pack up their stuff and change into their freshly washed clothes. Ann offers them an old backpack that they had sitting around that’s a welcomed improvement over the museum bag. Erin packs her stuff and changes quickly and then walks down the hall to Holtz’s room. She stands in the doorframe hesitantly. Holtz is on her back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“You can come in,” she says.

Erin steps into the room. “I’ve got the bag.”

“Cool.”

Silence.

“Holtz?”

“Mm?”

“I…I told you that stuff about me earlier to level the playing field. I thought maybe you were feeling weird about telling me about your life yesterday, and I thought you might feel better if I told you about mine too. But now I’m kinda freaking out because you haven’t really said anything and I told you stuff that’s _really_ hard for me to talk about and now I’m worried that you’re going to see me differently or judge me and _please_ just say something so I know I’m just worrying for nothing.”

Holtz sits up. “You think I would judge you?”

“I…no…maybe…I don’t know, Holtz.”

“Erin, I don’t give a shit about your past. Nobody does.”

“Excuse me?”

“Literally nobody cares where you came from or who you used to be. Nobody cares about _anybody’s_ past. Everyone’s all ‘I want to know you better!’ and ‘tell me about yourself!’ but the truth is that _nobody cares._ ”

Erin has no clue where this rant is coming from. She feels like she unknowingly struck a nerve, but she’s not exactly sure how. All she knows is this is the most Holtz has spoken in hours.

“Nobody cares about the _truth_ ,” Holtz continues. “Nobody actually _wants_ to know the horrifyingly intimate details about someone’s life.”

Erin’s fingers twitch at her sides. “So you’re saying you didn’t want to know about my past? That I told you all that for nothing?”

Holtz lets out a frustrated sigh and flops backwards onto the bed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What _did_ you mean, Holtz?” Erin is trying to remain calm, but it’s not working.

“I meant that you shouldn’t have felt obligated to tell me anything just because I told you about my life. It doesn’t work that way. Your past is _yours_ and yours alone. And all that garbage that says that you’re somehow lying to people if you don’t tell them everything is so _damaging_ because it teaches you to feel guilty if you have secrets, like you can’t be an authentic and honest person if there’s stuff you don’t want people to know about.”

“Holtz, did I…did I pressure you into telling me things you didn’t want to tell me?”

Holtz is silent for a few moments. “No,” she says finally. “I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t want to.”

Erin can believe that. “So what is all this about, then? I don’t get it.”

“Erin, I learned a long time ago that it’s all a bunch of bullshit. We’d rather paint people into the shiny versions of them that we want than face the fact that they have complex lives and weird interests and bad thoughts and pasts full of uncomfortable, sad, _horrible_ things. It’s easier to be what everyone expects you to be than to be completely, 100% honest about who you are. You should know that.”

Erin swallows. “I _do_ know that. But I thought you were…better than that. Nobody knows _what_ to expect from you. You’re Holtzmann. You’re unpredictable. You’re the most authentically and unapologetically _you_ person I’ve ever met.”

Holtz sits up again and raises her eyebrows. “Am I, though? Or do I play the role of the Holtzmann that I know everyone likes?” She points to her desk. “That person, the Jillian Holtzmann who tried to start a new life in Denmark after kidnapping her own unborn daughter, that’s me. The Jillian who smoked pot for two years in Canada, that’s me. Years and years of Jillian Holtzmanns who you’ve never met are _all_ me. A lot of people would say that you can’t possibly know me if you didn’t know about all of that, but that’s crap. Hell, I don’t even go by my real _name._ By those standards, I should be the _least_ authentic person you’ve ever met. But I’m not, because my past _doesn’t matter._ All that matters is who we are in the present and what version of ourselves we want to play. That’s all anyone _really_ needs in order to know someone, and in the end, it’s all anyone _wants_ to know.”

Erin has to disagree there. She wants to know _all_ the Jillian Holtzmanns of the past and present, not because she feels like Holtz shouldn’t have secrets or because having a mysterious past makes her less authentic, but because Erin wants to be _the_ person that Holtz lets close to her. She wants to know all of it because that’s the kind of intimacy she craves. She wants to know everything that Holtz is willing to tell and she wants to share all of her own secrets in return not out of obligation, but because that’s what you do when you—

Oh.

That’s what you do when you love someone.

 _That_ realization hits Erin like a blow to the spine.

How could she have not realized before? How could she not see the bigger picture to all of this? How could she not _know_ that she is, without a doubt, in love with Jillian Holtzmann, and probably has been for a long time?

The same Jillian Holtzmann who’s sitting on the bed in front of her, waiting for some sort of response. Erin feels a little faint. Her mouth is dry.

“That’s…that’s very deep, Jillian.”

“Did you just call me Jillian?”

“Y…yes? I did…it felt…necessary.”

Holtz cracks the barest hint of a smile. “Please never do that again. That was weird.”

“Sorry. So…you really think that everyone should keep their lives to themselves? Isn’t that…kind of sad? To never let anybody in?”

“No, I think if you can find people you trust enough to tell your darkest secrets to, then that can be something amazing…but it can also be dangerous. People can get hurt. I just think that there shouldn’t be an _obligation_ to be completely open. Your life should be yours to decide how you want to portray it.”

That, at least, Erin can get behind. “You should’ve studied philosophy in college,” she jokes. “You have a lot of wisdom hiding in that mind of yours.”

“That’s Holtzmann for you.” Holtz smiles for real, and Erin thinks maybe things will be okay.

 

“Sure I can’t convince you to stay another night?” Ann asks a little sadly as they gather in the foyer to say goodbye.

“I’ll be back,” Holtz replies.

“You said that before, and here we are two whole years later. We miss you, sweetheart.”

“I know, I know. I promise I’ll at least call, okay? Erin will get on my back about it, right, Erin?”

“I will,” Erin swears.

Holtz bends to hug her mother. “Bye, Mom. I love you.”

“Thank you for coming to visit,” Ann murmurs. “Take care of yourself, Jillian, okay?”

“I will.”

Holtz straightens up. “I’m gonna go start up the bike.”

With that, she slips out the front door.

Erin bites her lip. “Thank you for your hospitality. It was really nice meeting you.”

“Come here.” Ann embraces her tightly. “If she doesn’t take care of herself, can I count on you to take care of her?”

Erin swallows the lump in her throat. “I’ll do my best.”

When Ann releases her, she looks up at Erin with a serious expression. “Don’t let her push you out too. She’ll try. She gets scared and runs when things get hard. Keep that in mind.”

Well, that doesn’t sound familiar at _all_.

“I won’t let her,” Erin whispers, more to herself than to Ann.

With determination in her bones, Erin says goodbye, hikes the backpack over her shoulders, and leaves the house, vowing that this won’t be the last time she comes here. Not if she has anything to do with it.

_if I could live a thousand times, if I could make a thousand tries_

_maybe then I’d get it right_

_the more I see, the more I know that everyone just wants a show_

_no, we don’t want to see the truth_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stuff about why Erin left Abby is all based off the movie novelization by Nancy Holder, which you should read if you haven't. There are some GREAT moments in there.
> 
> Lots of big stuff in this one...let me know what you think of it all! 
> 
> Anyway, I need to get back to work. I haven't written anything new since I posted the last chapter (I spent all day yesterday starting up a Youtube channel). Gotta finish this baby off! :)


	9. shots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst train is making a stop in Cuteville real quick.

[shots](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tni74ocFxtQ)

 

_I’m wishing I had what I’d taken for granted_

_I can’t help you when I’m only gonna do you wrong_

_I’m going to mess this up, this is just my luck_

_over and over and over again_

“Where to now?” Erin asks as she reaches Holtz, who’s leaning against the bike with her arms crossed.

“Maybe we should start to think about turning around.”

Erin blinks. “Seriously?”

Holtz shrugs. “It’s just…we’ve been gone for like five days now. I kinda miss the lab. And the others, of course.”

“Right. Well…if that’s how you feel…”

“Don’t sweat, string quartet. We can still see a lot on our way back to New York.”

Erin swallows. “Sure.”

“What’s some place you really want to see?”

Erin thinks. What’s between here and New York that they didn’t stop at on the way down? “Charleston?”

“Charleston it is.”

 

They drive straight through, only stopping for gas at rest stops to stretch. They stick to the interstate instead of venturing off, which seems like the safer choice. Erin wonders if this is it, if this is how it’s going to be, or if they’ll get back some of the lighthearted vibe of the first leg of the trip. If Holtz is going to be strange, maybe the onus is going to fall on Erin to keep things fun.

Well, if that’s the case, then they might as well call it a day now. She might be able to follow along if Holtz is orchestrating, but she doesn’t know how to do it by herself.

They get to Charleston around 5:00pm, and Holtz parks the bike down by the waterfront near the French Quarter.

“What are you thinking for dinner?” Holtz asks. “I’m down for anything.”

Erin thinks. This could be her chance to recapture some of the impulsivity and absurdity. A thought jumps into her head, and she almost dismisses it because it’s stupid, but then…

“We should go someplace really nice,” Erin says. “I never go to nice restaurants because they’re impractical, but if there was ever a time…”

Holtz’s face lights up. “I love it.”

_I love you_ , Erin wants to say.

“Wait.” Erin’s heart falls. “Nice places have a dress code. Even with these clothes being washed, they’re still…you know…”

Holtz looks down at her hot pink parachuting shirt. “What are you hinting at? Is this not black tie?”

Erin laughs. “It’s fine, I’m sure there are plenty of other places to eat.”

“No, Erin, you can’t give up _that_ easily. These places require nicer clothes? Then let’s go get nicer clothes.”

Erin covers her mouth. “Are you actually suggesting we go buy fancy clothes right now _just_ to go to dinner?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Let’s do it.”

 

They walk up until they find an area of shops that still has a few stores open. They end up in White House Black Market, where they each select a few things to try on. Erin tries on one dress that she likes but thinks is too casual, then a black one that isn’t quite her usual style.

There’s a knocking on her change room door. “Eriiin. Open up.”

“Hold on, I don’t know how I feel about this one.”

“Show meeee.”

Erin opens the door.

“Wow,” Holtz says.

But Erin barely hears her, because her brain has turned to static and her mouth has gone dry at the sight of her outfit.

She’s wearing a pair of [black, cropped pants](https://www.whitehouseblackmarket.com/Product_Images/570197406_001_large.jpg?resize=1000px:*&output-quality=85) that hug her legs and a [white sleeveless shirt](https://www.whitehouseblackmarket.com/Product_Images/570165587ext2_large.jpg?resize=1000px:*&output-quality=85) with a deep V for a neckline. The top is half-tucked, half hanging loose in the sort of sloppy-sexy way that makes Erin’s toes curl.

She realizes she’s staring, and tries unsuccessfully to rip her eyes away. “Uhh…I, umm…”

Holtz laughs lightly. “That’s a nice dress.”

Erin splutters a little and looks down at [her dress](https://www.whitehouseblackmarket.com/Product_Images/570203051_001_large.jpg?resize=1000px:*&output-quality=85). “I don’t know.”

“Have you tried on the other ones?”

“I have one more.”

“Get to it, then.”

“Are you buying…that?” Erin swallows. How on _earth_ is she supposed to keep her hands off Holtz if she does?

“Yup.” Holtz checks herself out in the mirror with a thoughtful expression. “Gonna have to go bra-free though because mine shows through, so hopefully that won’t go horribly wrong,” she muses.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Flustered and on the verge of passing out, Erin steps back into the dressing room and attempts to calm down as she changes into the last dress, a watercolour floral one with open shoulders and pleated sleeves. She takes a few deep breaths, then opens the door again.

This time, Holtz is leaning against the wall with her arms folded, so casually yet so _seductively_ that she _has_ to be doing it on purpose. Erin nearly chokes.

“Oh, that one is nice too.”

Erin turns to examine her reflection in the mirror outside the dressing room, mostly just so she’s not looking at Holtz. “This one is more me…”

“You could push yourself outside your comfort zone, though. That’s a theme of this trip. Besides, the black one can’t be _that_ out of the box…it has a _bow._ ”

Erin smooths down the floral dress, then turns back to Holtz. “Which one do you think is better?”

“Hmm…well, you’ll be hot in the black one.”

This time Erin _does_ choke, and she can feel her face turn beet red. “Thank you?” she squeaks.

Holtz looks like she’s holding back laughter. “Once again, I meant the temperature, but I’m not going to dispute that you looked great in that one.”

Erin didn’t think it was possible for her face to get any redder, but it does. “Right. Of course. I knew that.”

Needless to say, she buys the black one. Screw the temperature.

 

Once they’re back outside in their new attire, their wallets a combined $400 lighter (much to both of their horror, but also enjoyment…as far as crazy goes, they’ve truly outdone themselves), they take off in search of a restaurant. Erin has a bit of a hard time walking in the new pink suede heels she bought and swapped out for her Keds. She’s a little out of practice, not to mention that these ones—which cost more than her dress did—are higher than her work heels ever were. Holtz notices her wobbling and extends an elbow for Erin to grab onto.

Erin clings on like her life depends on it as they make their way back down to the waterfront.

“I think my favourite part of this is that we still have the backpack,” Erin says, laughing.

Holtz grins. “ _I_ still have the backpack. You get off looking perfectly respectable.”

They’re not exactly sure what they’re looking for, but they pass several restaurants before Holtz stops dead. Erin nearly falls over.

“Erin. Erin. Look.” Holtz points.

Erin follows her finger to a blue awning down the block with _S.N.O.B._ printed on it in white lettering.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Erin says.

 

The restaurant’s full name is Slightly North of Broad, and it has a line. They’ve committed to waiting, though, and it doesn’t take as long as they thought it might to get seated. The hostess takes them to a table by the wall and Holtz makes a huge show of pulling out Erin’s chair for her.

That’s the moment that Erin realizes this could _very_ easily be construed as a date. They’re dressed up, at a nice restaurant, and Holtz is acting very chivalrous.

Oh god. Erin’s on a date with Holtz.

If she’s going to get through this without making a complete fool out of herself, she’s going to need to loosen up a bit. The first chance she gets, she orders a glass of chardonnay for a horrifying $14.

“I’m going to order the most expensive thing on the menu,” Holtz announces.

“Of course you are,” Erin says. She studies her own menu and decides on the scallops.

When their server comes to take their order, Holtz, true to form, does exactly as she said she would and orders the ribeye and, surprisingly, a glass of cabernet sauvignon. Erin wouldn’t take her for a wine drinker. What’s even weirder is when it arrives, and Holtz tastes it like a professional. It’s a strange image, especially with her dressed up like she is.

“I didn’t know you were a wine expert,” Erin says, taking a small sip from her own.

The corner of Holtz’s mouth turns up around her own glass. “I picked up a thing or two in California.”

Erin holds her breath for a moment, hoping that the mention of California doesn’t send Holtz back into the funk that she seems to have left behind in Jacksonville.

She gets her wish, and Holtz moves on without skipping a beat. “We should ask our server to take a photo of us the next time we see him. Gotta show Abby and Patty how we can clean up.”

They do just that. Their server takes several photos of them at the table, which Erin promptly sends to the group chat.

[6:28pm] Patty: _awwww look at yall! so dressed up! where is that?_

[6:29pm] Erin: _Charleston! Holtzmann ordered a $50.00 steak._

[6:30pm] Abby: _Of course she did. Have fun on your date, nerds!_

Erin freezes up at that message, and waits for Holtz’s reaction. A few moments later, she reads the message and chuckles.

[6:32pm] Holtzmann: _don’t forget the glass o red for 16 bucks_

[6:32pm] Holtzmann: _livin the high life in charleston_

She didn’t deny that they’re on a date. Erin’s stomach dips. Maybe Holtz _does_ like her. At this point, she really has no idea.

Friends don’t flirt like this, right? Friends don’t go on fancy dinner dates.

 

Conversation flows effortlessly. By the time their meals arrive, Erin is on her second glass of wine and feeling decidedly warmer and less jittery.

Holtz is so _beautiful_. Erin is mesmerized by everything from her collarbones, exposed in that oh-so-enticing neckline, to the way her hair looks softer in this lighting, somehow. Everything about her looks softer.

And her _eyes_. It’s a rare occurrence for her to not be wearing any glasses, and Erin finds herself wishing it happened more often.

She takes back her earlier statement—the ocean isn’t the most beautiful shade of blue she’s ever seen.

She realizes she’s neglecting her scallops and tears her gaze away.

She thought love would feel like ziplining over a waterfall.

She didn’t know it would be like this. A wave cresting over nestled toes. A warm summer night.

A polaroid developing between her fingertips.

 

They finish their dinner and depart the restaurant arm in arm. It’s even harder to walk in her heels now that she has a couple glasses of wine in her, and after a block she gives up and stops to change back into her Keds. Not to be deterred, she still grabs Holtz’s arm again afterwards, figuring something about the night warrants it regardless.

They walk down to Waterfront Park in comfortable silence. They spot a fountain a short ways away that has several children playing in it.

“Erin!”

Erin guesses what Holtz is thinking right away and lets herself be pulled into a run in that direction. When they get there, she notices that the fountain is decorated like a pineapple.

“Holtz,” she says a little breathlessly, “we’re wearing expensive clothes.”

“A little water never hurt anybody.”

Holtz tugs her by the hand and they splash into the fountain. Erin’s shoes get soaked through immediately and all she can do is laugh giddily.

“Ankle deep in the Pineapple Fountain,” Holtz sings. “Looking sleek in the Pineapple Foouuntaaiin.”

She spins Erin and they land in a waltz position, Holtz’s other hand resting on Erin’s back. Erin’s hand tentatively finds its way to Holtz’s shoulder.

“We can dance in the Pineapple Fountain,” Holtz sings.

They rotate every so slowly. Erin feels sweat trickle down from her neck and disappear down the back of her dress, and hopes it doesn’t reach Holtz’s hand. Her heart is beating so fast. She can’t tear her eyes from Holtz’s. She thinks she can see fear reflected there, but she’s not sure if it’s her own or Holtz’s.

Their clasped hands swing down to hang by their sides.

“Take a chance in the Pineapple Fountain,” Holtz adds, softer and quieter like an afterthought, like maybe she’s talking to herself.

They still. Everything, the whole world, stills.

Erin breathes out.

This is it.

Her hand moves slowly, so slowly, from Holtz’s shoulder to her neck, and before she can lose her courage, she leans down and in.

Her lips are even softer than they look. She tastes like steak and the faintest traces of cabernet sauvignon. She tastes like love.

It’s over in a second, and Erin pulls back, sighs against Holtz’s lips.

And then Holtz pushes her away. Erin freezes.

“Oh, Erin, no.”

Holtz steps completely away and turns, wading out of the fountain like she can’t get out fast enough. Dumbfounded, Erin unfreezes and traipses out after her. When she reaches Holtz, her back to the fountain, she grabs her arm and turns her.

Holtz yanks her arm from Erin’s grasp. Her fingertips burn at the loss.

Holtz’s face twists. “No. No, no, no.”

No?

“Erin, I’m…shit. I’m sorry if—if I gave you any indication that—I’m sorry if you thought— _no._ ”

No.

Her heart falls to the pavement like dropped ice cream.

 

_I’m sorry for everything, everything I’ve done_

_from the second that I was born_

_it seems I had a loaded gun_

_and then I shot, shot, shot a hole through everything I loved_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *winces* uhhhhhhhhh I don't know what to say other than that it's the last day to enter my [fic giveaway](http://jillbert.tumblr.com/post/160424649169/hey-everyone-maddiejillbertholtzbabe-here-i) and if you win, then you can make me write the happiest cutest fluffiest oneshot ever if you want. If that's...any consolation. 
> 
> *runs very far away to hide*


	10. dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. Apparently I didn't adequately "prepare" you guys for the last chapter despite the fact that I said at the end of 'trouble' that we were heading into 6 chapters of angst...so I'm not making that mistake again. DISCLAIMER: There are THREE (3) more chapters of angst including this one. And then...well, you know me, right? Come on. Have some faith. Have I ever written something that DIDN'T end with fluffy cheesy romance happiness? I never even planned for this angst arc at ALL (I'd always planned for a fountain kiss but thought that was going to be the climax) and then it was only after I decided to use this album and realized just how depressing the entire album is that I realized there needed to be angst, and this arc came to me and made a lot of sense in the circumstances. So these next three chapters aren't my fault, they're Imagine Dragons' fault. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it (and it should be believable because anyone who's ever listened to me talk about writing knows that I hate writing angst with a passion and would never intentionally set out to do so).
> 
> Okay? Is that all cleared up? Great. Now go read what Holtz's excuse is so you can stop yelling at me.

[dream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCSX3mM6940)

_it’s not what you painted in my head_

_there’s so much there instead of all the colours that I saw_

_we all are living in a dream but life ain’t what it seems_

_everything’s a mess_

Erin feels like throwing up.

How could she be so _stupid?_

After Holtz rejected her at the fountain, she had said, very stiffly and formally, that they should probably leave and keep driving. That maybe they should focus on getting back to New York.

What was Erin supposed to say to that?

Filled with shame, she had found a public bathroom and changed out of her dress, then shoved it deep in the backpack, not caring even in the slightest if it got crumpled. She rejoined Holtz at the motorcycle. She was still in her outfit but now wearing her leather jacket, and Erin couldn’t even appreciate how that looked because she needed to _stop_ thinking that way.

Then they drove, and drove some more, which was a kind of torture because of the necessary proximity. They didn’t stop until Manning, where they’re currently walking into the lobby of a shitty hotel, and Holtz isn’t saying anything, and Erin’s shoes are still wet from the fountain and chafing on her feet, and she feels like throwing up.

They reach the front desk.

“Hi,” Holtz says, her voice calm and neutral. “We’d like two rooms for tonight.”

Erin instantly feels like crying. Two rooms? Is Holtz that disgusted by her that she can’t bear the thought of spending another night with her? Does she not trust Erin to not make a move on her?

This is humiliating. Utterly humiliating.

Erin doesn’t know how she’s going to recover from this.

After they get their keys, Holtz turns to Erin, not looking up from the ground. “Sorry. I just think we need some time apart from one another.”

Erin’s throat is so tight she fears her vocal chords will snap if she replies, so she just gives a curt nod.

Holtz takes her stuff from the backpack. “See you tomorrow morning,” she says, and then she’s gone before Erin can blink.

They’re not even on the same floor. There might as well be an ocean between them.

Erin steps into her room, locks the deadbolt, drops the backpack, and doesn’t even make it to the bed before the tears she’s been holding back for hours come flooding out.

She doesn’t bother changing into her pajamas. She just curls up in a ball in her clothes and cries herself to sleep.

 

When Erin wakes again, it’s still dark out. She’s sticky with sweat and her vision is blurry. She gets up and stumbles to the bathroom, where she actually _does_ throw up. She probably has food poisoning or something from her stupid scallops at that stupid restaurant.

When she’s done heaving into the toilet, she strips and gets into a freezing cold shower. She zones out staring at the wall and doesn’t know how much time passes before she snaps out of it and realizes she’s shaking and her skin is purpling in parts.

She gets out of the shower and combs her hair, which hurts because _Holtz_ bought that comb, and then she stares at her naked reflection for a few minutes and wonders if she’s just unlovable and that’s the problem. Maybe every single flirty remark that has ever come out of Holtz’s mouth was just a joke.

She changes into her pajamas and sees that Holtz left her the smaller pair, probably unintentionally, and she tries _really_ hard not to think about the fact that Holtz has worn them recently.

Every time she thinks about Holtz, a little part of her heart dies, but she can’t stop. She can’t stop picturing her. Can’t stop wondering what she did wrong.

Then she feels like throwing up again, and ends up back on the bathroom floor, which is disgusting and dirty, which makes her throw up even more.

Finally, when she’s pretty sure there’s nothing left in her stomach, she crawls back to the bed and under the sheets with her phone. It’s 4:00am. She texts Abby, because she doesn’t know what else to do.

[3:56am] Erin: _Abby, I fucked up. I fucked everything up. Why am I like this? Why, Abby?_

Her phone vibrates right away, which she wasn’t expecting.

[3:56am] Abby: _I know_

[3:57am] Abby: _Erin, it will be okay_

[3:58am] Erin: _What do you mean you know?_

[3:59am] Abby: _We were doing damage control with Holtz up until about an hour ago._

Erin blinks and rubs her eyes.

[4:00am] Erin: _She told you what happened? Oh my god._

[4:01am] Abby: _Don’t freak out. Holtz…she’s really upset._

[4:03am] Abby: _Not at you. At herself. She has an explanation but I’ll let her tell you. Just…don’t freak out too much, okay? This isn’t your fault. You didn’t know._

[4:06am] Erin: _I’m an idiot, Abby. I actually thought she liked me._

[4:07am] Abby: _If it makes you feel any better…actually nvm._

[4:09am] Erin: _What, Abby????_

[4:11am] Abby: _Nothing._

[4:12am] Erin: _ABBY!_

[4:15am] Abby: _I was only going to say that we thought she did too. And that…maybe don’t call it too early?_

[4:16am] Abby: _You didn’t hear that from me though, okay?_

Erin is so confused. What does that mean? Did Holtz say that she actually _does_ like Erin?

[4:18am] Abby: _Don’t beat yourself up too much. Try to get some sleep. Both of you are going to be zombies tomorrow and we want you getting home in one piece._

[4:19am] Abby: _And give her some time. You know Holtz._

Does she, though? Holtz had almost convinced her that she did know her as well as anyone could, but now Erin’s just not sure any more.

[4:21am] Erin: _I’ll try…goodnight, Abby. Thank you…_

[4:22am] Abby: _Night. Hang in there. I promise it will be okay._

Erin retires her phone to the nightstand and surrenders to her drooping eyes once more.

 

The next time she wakes up, it’s to knocking on the door. The digital clock on the bedside table says it’s after 10:00am. She kicks off the sheets and clambers out of bed. She looks through the peephole on the door to see Holtz standing clear on the other side of the hall, looking at the floor.

Erin bites her lip and hesitates. She can’t avoid Holtz forever, she supposes. With a sigh, she slides open the deadbolt and cracks open the door.

Holtz looks up. “Hey.”

Erin tries to keep her voice even and indifferent. “Hey.”

“You missed breakfast hours, but I brought you a muffin.” Holtz holds out the muffin.

Erin’s stomach turns at the thought of eating, or maybe just eating something that Holtz has touched, but she takes it anyway. “Thanks.”

Holtz shoves her hands in her pockets. She’s wearing the outfit she left New York in. It’s like none of it ever happened.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah,” Erin says. “It’s fine. It’s late.”

Holtz’s own eyes have bags under them. Erin wonders if she slept.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Silence. Erin angles the door shut. “I should get changed.”

“Yeah. I’ll let you get to it. I’ll meet you outside.”

Holtz walks away.

Erin stares at the empty hallway for a few seconds, then shuts the door.

She gets dressed in her Walmart yoga pants and the top she was wearing when they left New York, so she’s not wearing anything that she borrowed from Holtz, and then she packs up the backpack.

She holds the wrinkled dress from the previous night, and her body’s reaction to it is so visceral that she very nearly leaves it in the bathroom’s trash can. Then at the last minute she decides to keep it, if only to donate when they get back home. She can’t justify throwing a brand new $120 dress and $125 shoes in the garbage just because they make her feel like shit.

Once everything’s packed, she heads downstairs to check out and then meets Holtz outside, where she packs her stuff into the bag as well. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s an unspoken agreement that they’re going to drive as far as they can today. How long could it possibly be from here to New York? They’re probably going to have to spend at least one more night at a hotel, especially if Holtz is already tired. Although, she is drumming her fingers on her thigh, something she only does when she’s had a lot of caffeine. Erin hates that she knows that.

And she _really_ hates that she has to sit so close to Holtz with her arms wrapped around her torso as they drive. Her closeness, her scent, everything about her—it’s like a slap in the face.

Love fucking sucks.

 

They only drive for about fifteen minutes when they reach a complete standstill.

“Uh oh,” Holtz says as they slow to a stop behind the pick-up truck in front of them.

They can see cars stretched out in front of them for miles and miles.

“An accident?” Erin says.

“Must be.”

After 15 minutes of waiting there, the cars around them turn off their engines. Holtz does the same, and then it’s just the two of them sitting embraced on a stationary motorcycle. They don’t say anything more. Erin watches cars pass on the other side of the grass median.

Another 15 minutes pass. Erin slides from the bike to stretch. She feels Holtz watching her.

“Must be a bad one,” Holtz says.

Erin’s not really in the mood for small talk.

After another 15 minutes, Holtz gets off the bike as well. She nods her head at the billboard they’ve stopped beside. “Think they mean real dinosaurs?”

The board says something about a dinosaur crossing. Erin shrugs and busies herself by memorizing the license plates of all the cars around them. The truck in front of them has a bumper sticker supporting the Orange One and she catches Holtz taking another middle finger picture with it.

By the time they’ve been waiting there for a full hour, Holtz has struck up a conversation with the elderly couple in the car beside them. Erin distracts herself by reading traffic reports on her phone. Several news outlets confirm that there was a bad three-vehicle crash that’s completely blocking northbound traffic, but not one of them has an estimate on when they’ll get moving again.

Another 10 minutes go by.

“Maybe this is a sign we should talk,” Holtz says.

Erin doesn’t want to talk. Not here. Not until she feels ready to hear what Holtz has to say.

Holtz keeps going anyway.

“I’m really sorry if I did something that made you think that I was…interested. I don’t know what it could have been. Was it Abby’s joke about us being on a date?”

Is she _serious?_

It’s probably the combination of the sun and being stuck in traffic, but that makes Erin’s blood boil.

“You don’t know what could’ve given me that impression? _Really?_ Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you flirt with me _constantly?”_ Erin waves her hands angrily. “Did I somehow _misinterpret_ that?”

She can tell all the people outside their cars nearby are listening even though they’re pretending not to.

“I…” Holtz looks really uncomfortable. _Good._ “I flirt with a lot of people. I didn’t think you thought you were special.”

Erin laughs, one loud bark that turns heads. “Wow, Holtzmann, you sure know how to kick someone when they’re down.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah. Whatever. I get it, okay? I’m the idiot who misinterpreted our friendship. I don’t want to hear anymore.”

Holtz looks like she’s going to argue, but then the sound of engines starting snaps both of them from the conversation.

“Shit,” Holtz mutters.

That’s for sure. Erin would rather hitch a ride back to New York with one of these strangers than spend another minute with her arms wrapped around Holtz, but there’s no time.

They quickly get back on the bike as the cars around them start up as well. Erin’s thankful that at least they can’t talk while they’re driving.

Traffic starts moving so slowly that it’s barely an improvement. They inch along for several miles. Erin’s head buzzes the whole way.

Is that really the ‘explanation’ that Abby was talking about? That Holtz flirts with everyone? Yeah, some help that is.

This just keeps getting worse.

 

It takes them forever, but they finally pass by the scene of the accident in a single lane. There’s still debris and emergency vehicles everywhere, and the totaled and smoking cars themselves. Something about the sight puts all of this into perspective. If the people in those cars haven’t already passed, then they certainly are in critical condition.

It’s probably useless to be angry at Holtz for something that is clearly Erin’s fault. It’s her problem, and she’s the one who needs to get over it. Holtz did nothing wrong.

Life is too short to hold grudges.

Once they get past the accident, traffic speeds up back to normal. They keep driving until the exits for Florence, where Holtz pulls off. It took them two-and-a-half hours to only go 50 miles or so. Hopefully they don’t run into any more accidents, or it’ll take them all year to return to New York.

Holtz pulls into a Wendy’s right by the exit, which is good because Erin is starving. She never did eat that muffin that Holtz brought for her, and god knows she emptied out the contents of her stomach overnight.

Erin gets a burger and a chocolate Frosty to cool down after so many hours in the sun and sits across from Holtz in one of those hard plastic booths that are always so uncomfortable.

She really hopes that Holtz isn’t going to start up their conversation again. She’d really prefer it if they dropped the whole thing so she can start to forget about it.

Thankfully, Holtz seems preoccupied by the three 10-piece chicken nugget meals spread out in a mountain on her tray in front of her. Erin is horrified by the sheer amount of chicken nuggets and fries, but Holtz is attacking them with gusto. She’s got containers of plum sauce, barbeque sauce, and honey mustard lined up in a row and she’s dipping each nugget in all three before eating it. She’s very methodical. Erin finds herself distracted from her own food just watching her.

“So,” Holtz says, her voice stiff. Dip, dip, dip, eat. “We still need to talk.” Dip, dip, dip, eat.

Erin jabs her spoon into her Frosty. “No, we really don’t. I’d rather we pretend it never happened.”

Dip, dip, dip, eat. “We need to talk,” Holtz repeats.

“Holtz, I don’t want to.”

Dip, dip, dip, eat. “Why did you kiss me?”

Erin says nothing.

Dip, dip, dip, eat. “Erin, why did you kiss me?”

She’s not going to let this go. “Because I thought you liked me.”

Dip, dip, dip, eat. “Why?”

“You flirt with me.”

Dip, dip, dip, eat. A nod of acknowledgement.

“And I thought maybe we were on a date.”

Dip, dip, dip, eat. “Why?”

Erin sighs in exasperation. “I don’t know? We were dressed up and eating dinner together? It was romantic?”

Dip, dip, dip, eat. “It was?”

“Clearly not,” Erin mutters.

Dip, dip, dip, eat. Her pace is quickening. “What else?”

“I don’t know, Holtzmann. Can you please drop it?”

“In the fountain.” Dip, dip, dip, eat. “Why then?”

Aggravated, everything comes spilling out in one big breathless rush. “Because I was tipsy and you looked nice and you said ‘take a chance’ and I was stupid enough to think you were talking to me and because of all the _moments_ we’ve had on this trip and because you shared your past with me and let me in and _that’s_ why I thought I was special, Holtzmann, because you _told_ me I was special, that’s why I thought I _meant something_ to you, but now I know that I was just an idiot who was only dreaming the whole time. Are you happy? Now would you _please—_ ”

Holtz’s dipping routine has become so mechanical and frantic that she looks like can barely chew fast enough.

Dip, dip, dip, eat. Dip, dip, dip, eat. Dip, dip, dip, eat. Dip, dip, dip, eat.

Erin can’t watch it anymore and reaches across the table and grabs Holtz’s wrist. “Will you _stop?”_

Holtz flinches hard and jerks out of Erin’s grasp. The chicken nugget in her hand falls to the table and her arm knocks over her drink. Coke spills all over the mountain of food and pools on the tray.

“Crap. I’m sorry, Holtz.”

Erin looks up to see Holtz’s eyes welling with tears, and then before she can say anything, Holtz has slid out of the booth and is sprinting in the direction of the bathroom.

Great. Erin just can’t stop making things worse, can she?

She grabs the stack of napkins, even though they’ll be useless at this point. Pretty much all the food is ruined. She gives up and takes the whole tray to the garbage, then heads to the bathroom, leaving her own food and the backpack at the booth. It’s not like anything but their new clothes has any value. Holtz is more important. Erin swings the door open and immediately takes in the two empty stalls and Holtz sitting on the disgusting floor against the far wall, her knees pulled to her chest and her face red and streaked with tears. Erin’s heart pangs at the image.

She crosses the small room and crouches down a few feet from Holtz, careful to give her space.

“I’m sorry for ruining your meal. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Holtz shakes her head, tight lipped.

“No, you don’t want a new meal?”

Holtz shakes her head again and opens her mouth, then closes it. She contorts her face, clearly frustrated.

“Are you upset about the food?”

A shake.

“Are you upset that I grabbed you? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Hesitation, then a shake.

“Are you upset that I kissed you?” Erin whispers.

A longer hesitation, then finally a shake.

No?

“Then what?” Erin says, mostly to herself. She wracks her brain. What was she saying right before the drink spilled?

“The truth,” Holtz says quietly.

“The truth,” Erin repeats. “You’re upset because I told you the truth about why I kissed you?”

A nod.

“Which part?”

Silence.

“Me being tipsy?”

A shake.

“You looking nice?”

A shake.

“The thing you said in the fountain?”

A shake.

Erin pauses. “You telling me stuff about your past and making me feel special?” Is it coming down to that again?

A nod.

Erin looks to her left, sees a matted lump of toilet paper on the ground. “Are you upset that I misinterpreted that?” She looks back at Holtz.

A shake.

“I don’t understand.”

At least a full minute passes. Erin’s legs are burning from crouching. It doesn’t seem like Holtz is going to elaborate any time soon, so she starts to stand.

“Wait.”

Erin stops.

“I’m frustrated. Angry—at myself, not—you did nothing wrong. Shouldn’t have told you. Because—I said, people get hurt. You—I never should—this always _happens._ Why I don’t—because people think—it’s happening _again_.” Holtz’s speech is disjointed and choppy and she seems to be mostly speaking to herself, but Erin can still understand the essence.

“You’re upset that you let me in, because it gave me the wrong idea about our friendship?” Erin guesses.

“Yes, but…” Holtz squeezes her eyes shut and scrunches her whole face. “ItoldyouthatitcanbedangeroustoshareyoursecretsbecausepeoplecangethurtandthisiswhatImeantandIknewthiswouldhappenagainbutIhopedmaybeitwouldn’tbutofcourseitdiditalwaysdoesanditalwayswill.”

Erin thinks she caught most of that. “What do you mean, it’s happening again? Did this…happen before?” It might be pushing too much to ask that right now, but she can’t stop herself.

“Leah,” Holtz says, so quietly that Erin doesn’t understand what she’s saying at first.

Then it hits her. “Your ex? From college?” An image of the burnt-face girl appears in Erin’s mind. Holtz’s voice echoes. _First real girlfriend. Abusive asshole. Bad time in my life._

Holtz nods.

“Do I…remind you of her?”

Holtz shakes her head.

Erin’s not even sure if the abuse was emotional, physical, sexual… “Should I have asked for consent before I kissed you?”

“Maybe,” Holtz says in a very small voice, “but that’s not why…it still wouldn’t…”

Erin tries to fit the puzzle pieces together. How do they connect? What is she missing? What is Holtz not saying? Then, something occurs to her. “Was she…was that the last time you let someone close?”

As soon as she says the words out loud, she doesn’t even have to see Holtz’s sullen nod to know that that’s it. Of course. It all makes sense now. Her sudden distantness after she shared everything, her unexplained rant about secrets, her reaction to finding out the main reason why Erin kissed her…

The last time she let someone in, let them close, they took advantage of her. Her last relationship was abusive and awful. Why _wouldn’t_ she be resistant and scared of it happening again?

“Oh, Holtz,” Erin says. She resigns to the filthy floor and sits down, pulling her own knees to her chest to mirror Holtz’s. “I’m so sorry…that you had to go through that, but also that I reminded you of it. I didn’t realize…that she was the last time…I just didn’t know it was that bad.”

She immediately feels like an idiot for saying that. How could she not know it was that bad? Holtz said herself that she fell into a year-long depressive episode and essentially lost control of her life after the relationship ended. How could that not leave a mark? Erin had been so wrapped up in the Emily story that she let the Leah one get swept under the rug. Was that Holtz’s intention the whole time? If Erin had been thinking at _all,_ she would’ve realized that maybe Holtz was a little messed up about relationships and romance.

Or maybe she’s being too tough on herself. It’s not like Holtz gave any indication that she hasn’t been in a relationship since then.

Holtz sniffles. “Not your fault.”

It falls silent except for the dripping of a leaky tap.

“How did this become such a mess?” Erin wonders out loud, more for her own benefit than Holtz’s.

Is this what Abby meant? _Was_ Holtz interested, but scared of being burned again?

Has Erin ruined any shot of them ever getting together?

Even Ann had tried to warn her to be careful, but she just had to go ahead and screw everything up anyway. Is there any way to show Holtz that she can let someone in without it falling apart, when she just let someone in and it immediately fell to pieces? Is there any way to repair that damage, or is it as useless as mopping up a large Coke from a pile of chicken nuggets?

Is Holtz going to keep her an arm’s length away forever now? Should Erin make it easy for her and keep her distance? Should she fight to keep from being pushed away like Ann told her? Give her space like Abby told her?

She just doesn’t know the answers anymore, and she feels like crying herself.

This is a disaster.

 

_I know all your reasons to keep me from seeing_

_everything is actually a mess_

_but now I am leaving_

_all of us were only dreaming_

 


	11. second chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's all just take a collective deep breath in........and out.
> 
> We good?
> 
> Good. Full steam ahead :)

[second chances](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxsppmyHPHE)

 

_quicker than lightning_

_whiter than bone_

_if you can erase it_

_then I can atone_

 

They stay there on the floor until the door opens and an elderly woman comes in. She looks at them judgmentally as she steps past them into one of the stalls.

“We should get out of here,” Erin says.

She stands and extends her hand to Holtz, who eyes it warily for a few seconds before taking it. Erin pulls her to her feet.

Back in the restaurant, Erin throws out what’s left of her burger and completely melted Frosty, then grabs the backpack. All she wants is to get the hell out of this Wendy’s. She’s probably never going to be able to eat here again—or even see another chicken nugget—without thinking of what happened.

Once they’re outside, Erin takes in the drying tears on Holtz’s face. “Are you going to be okay to drive, or do you want to wait here a bit?”

“I’m fine,” Holtz says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Erin.”

“Sorry,” Erin murmurs, “I just don’t want to end up in an accident like the one we passed earlier because you’re upset.”

That quiets Holtz. “Sorry. You’re right. Maybe…five minutes.”

They stand there awkwardly. There’s nowhere to sit unless they go back inside, and that seems like a bad idea.

“Listen, Holtz,” Erin says, unable to keep herself from saying anything, “I’m willing to forget about everything if you are.”

Holtz is quiet. She squints into the sun.

Erin continues. “Our friendship means more to me than _anything_ , and I’d rather pretend this whole trip never happened and forget everything you told me than risk losing you. Okay?”

“I don’t want to pretend the whole trip never happened,” Holtz says. “It was a good trip. Just…the last few days were…not.”

“Then let’s erase the last few days. We can pretend we never went to Jacksonville. We went as far as Savannah, and then we turned around.”

“Don’t forget McKinnon,” Holtz says. “We can’t pretend we never went to McKinnon.”

“You’re right. Okay, we went to McKinnon, and then we turned around and came back. We never crossed the state line into Florida.”

A sad smile ghosts across Holtz’s face as she looks at the ground. “I promised you the ocean, though. We can’t erase that.”

Erin thinks back to the beach in Jacksonville, and Holtz, a distant smudge on the horizon. She’d be okay with forgetting. “Okay, we went to the beach in Florida, then left.”

“It was good seeing my family, though. I’ve missed them.”

Erin pauses. “Okay, so we—”

“Erin.”

Erin falls silent.

Holtz sighs. “We can’t pretend we didn’t go to the places we did. We had some good times in all of them. Well…maybe not Manning. Or wherever we are now.”

“Florence.”

“Right, Florence. Or…Charleston.”

Erin’s heart seizes at the mention. “Charleston wasn’t all bad,” she says tightly. “We had fun picking out outfits.”

“That’s true,” Holtz says, her voice small.

“Maybe…maybe we don’t forget the places, but we forget what we told each other. And we forget…the other thing that happened in Charleston. Put it all behind us. You said that we all deserve to portray our pasts the way we want—what if we edit out the bad parts of this trip and only leave what we want to remember?”

Erin doesn’t know if she can actually do that, nor does she want to, but at this point she’ll say anything if it brings them back to a less rocky place.

“I think we should do that,” Holtz says quietly. “Edit the bad and remember the good.”

“Okay,” Erin says. “Okay, let’s do that.”

As hard as it will be to pretend everything never happened, it’ll be worth it if it means they can get back to normal.

 

It’s not worth it. It’s not even a little bit worth it. After they left Florence, they drove for another hour, passed into North Carolina, and gassed up in Lumberton. Then they kept driving, driving, past the signs for Fayetteville which hurt a little to see because of how much everything has changed.

Now they’re in Rocky Mount in time for an early dinner, because both of them are hungry after having their lunch cut short. They end up at another barbeque joint. Erin orders pulled pork, and Holtz gets ribs.

And Erin can’t stop watching her, noting the way her entire face is covered in barbeque sauce and the way her hair is greasy from not showering and the way her glasses keep sliding down the bridge of her nose, and she remembers that she’s in love with Holtz.

What’s worse, she remembers what it was like to kiss Holtz, and how _right_ it was, how it felt like coming home and sleeping in your own bed after a week on the road.

And she remembers that she’s convinced Holtz that they can both forget. That they _should_ both forget.

She didn’t even try fighting for this. She didn’t beg for a second chance, a chance to make things right and show Holtz that she’s not going to hurt her, that she loves her too much for that.

She didn’t even find out if Holtz was open to the idea.

She took the easy way out. She ran.

Like she always does. Like _Holtz_ always does. How are they supposed to get anywhere if they both keep running from each other? From their problems?

What kind of a solution is that, to just _forget?_ What kind of life is that? Editing out the ups and downs until all that’s left is a flat line?

Jillian Holtzmann is no flat line, and Erin doesn’t want to be either. She wants the up and the down, the good and the bad, the easy and the hard, the happy and the sad. She doesn’t want to run when things get difficult, and she doesn’t want Holtz to run either.

How can she coax Holtz to tiptoe back out to the edge? How can she convince her to take a leap of faith?

Maybe love is like ziplining after all.

 

They nearly run out of gas and have to take a massive detour to Halifax, North Carolina, after which they get lost and end up on the #301 again until Weldon, where they join back up with the I-95. Shortly after that, they cross the state line into Virginia. Erin isn’t sure how far Holtz is planning to go tonight, but she gets her answer when they exit off in Richmond as the sun is setting.

They arrive at a hotel that’s considerably less grungy than the one they stayed at the previous night. Erin holds her breath as they approach the counter. Why does she feel like this is the moment of truth right here?

Holtz hesitates for only a fraction of a second. “One room for tonight, please.”

Erin’s heart soars. They’re back.

The person at the front desk types for a few moments and squints at the screen. “Unfortunately, all we have available for tonight are single rooms, but—”

“That’s fine.”

They look up from the computer. “You’ll take the single?”

“We’ll take the single,” Holtz confirms.

 

They take the elevator up to the fifth floor in silence.

In their room, Erin starts unpacking the backpack in search of her shorts while Holtz opens the curtains.

“Come look at this,” she says.

Erin drops her stuff and goes to look at the view of the city with the sun setting behind it.

“Now that’s a photo,” Erin says.

“Better grab your camera.”

Erin pulls her phone from her pocket and snaps a few shots of the view.

“We should go out exploring,” Holtz says.

Erin lowers her phone with a small smile. “We should.”

 

They walk down to the Riverfront and stroll along a pathway that runs the length of a canal. It’s a weird mix between that and the urban surroundings.

“Have you ever been here?” Erin asks.

“When I was 14,” Holtz says. “We went rafting in the river rapids.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“It was fun.”

“To each their own, I guess.”

Holtz nudges her with her elbow. “Oh, come on, you’d love it, Miss Erin Gilbert Thrill Seeker.”

“That is not an accurate title.”

“Sure it is. I saw you on that zipline course. You loved it.”

This is almost back to their old banter. Erin feels lighter with every back and forth.

“That’s completely different. This seems infinitely more dangerous.”

“The best things are.”

“Like relationships?” Erin blurts. Annnd there she goes, ruining things right when they’re starting to get better. Why is she like this?

Holtz freezes. Erin stops a few steps past her and turns, rejoining her.

“I meant, like, nuclear ghost goodies,” Holtz mutters.

She hasn’t completely shut down yet. Should Erin push her luck?

Yes. She told herself she was going to fight for this now. Not let Holtz run. Not let _herself_ run.

“Holtz,” she says gently, “you don’t need to shut yourself off from ever having another serious relationship just because your first experience ended badly. You wouldn’t give up on a new invention just because it exploded, and this isn’t any different. You know that there are women out there who won’t hurt you, right?”

Erin thinks for sure she’s overstepped.

Holtz lifts an eyebrow. “Like you?”

 _Yes_.

“Just…women. Lots of them.” Erin doesn’t think she could handle it if Holtz let someone in who wasn’t her, but she doesn’t want to show all her cards just yet.

“Lots of women, huh? I should find these women you speak of. All of them.” She cups her hands around her mouth. “Women! Where are you?”

There’s a nearly undetectable waver to Holtz’s voice under the bravado.

“Stop shouting,” Erin says.

“Why?” Holtz crosses her arms. “Don’t you _want_ me to find someone?”

Erin is silent. What’s she supposed to say?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Holtz says.

Erin juts her lip out. Holtz is going to play it like that? Fine. Erin is done playing games.

“No, I don’t want you to find someone. I think you should date me.”

Holtz falters at that, clearly not expecting Erin to say it so directly.

“What?”

“I think you should date me,” Erin says. “What’s the matter? Are you _surprised?_ Come on, Holtz, don’t give me that. You must’ve known that I was interested in you even before I kissed you. You _had_ to.”

She watches Holtz swallow and her hand flies to her necklace, gripping it tightly like a cross. “I…”

Erin waits.

“No, I…” Holtz’s brow furrows. “Of course I knew you were interested, but I didn’t think you…I didn’t know…you want to _date_ me?”

“Yes?” Erin is confused by Holtz’s confusion. “What’s the difference?”

“I don’t know,” Holtz says, sounding completely baffled. “I thought you wanted to sleep with me, sure, but not _date_ me.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Holtz laughs. “Because I’m Jillian Holtzmann.”

“…Yes?” Erin still doesn’t understand.

“Nobody wants to date Jillian Holtzmann.”

 _I do_ , Erin almost says, but then instead she says, “Nobody wants to date Jillian Holtzmann, or Jillian Holtzmann won’t let anyone date her?”

Holtz releases her necklace and folds her arms again. “Nobody wants to date Jillian Holtzmann.”

“Well, Erin Gilbert does, so it sounds like your theory has been disproven. You dragged me on this trip to do something crazy, and now I’m standing here in front of you doing something that I never would’ve done before we left, something that I’m terrified about people’s reactions to, something that is certifiably _crazy_ according to you _,_ and I’m saying that I want to date you. So, what’s it gonna be, Holtz? Yes or no?”

Holtz shakes her head and takes a step backwards. “No, Erin. It’s still no.”

Then she pushes past Erin and takes off down the path, leaving Erin feeling the sting of rejection for the second evening in a row. She wonders if that’s it, if it’s time to give up the fight now that she has a clear answer.

She watches Holtz’s retreating back for a few moments, then she runs. Not away, no, not this time—this time, she runs after Holtz.

 

_I get older and life fades but you remain_

_open up again, I believe in second chances_

_please let me in, I believe in second chances_

_I won’t break you, I will not let you down_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to post the next chapter very soon, like as soon as I wake up tomorrow, because a) this one is really short and 2) they would've been one chapter if I wasn't working around songs and needed certain lyrics for certain parts. So stay tuned!


	12. battle cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the next chapter as promised! Another very short one, and like I said, it would've been tacked onto the last one if I didn't need certain songs at certain parts. Hence why I'm posting it so soon.
> 
> There might be another mutiny after this one...beware.

[battle cry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TuugyqzqYdM)

 

_just one more time before I go_

_I'll let you know_

_that all this time I've been afraid_

_wouldn't let it show_

 

She catches up with Holtz right away but doesn’t reach for her, having learnt her lesson the last two times. Holtz doesn’t stop.

“Holtzmann,” she all but shouts, “stop walking right this second!”

Holtz whirls around. “ _What,_ Erin? Can’t you drop this?”

“I will. If you tell me something.”

Holtz’s eyes narrow.

Erin swallows. “Tell me you don’t have feelings for me, that you don’t like me, and I’ll back off. I’ll drop this forever.”

Holtz presses her lips into a thin line.

At that moment, there’s a loud boom and then the sky lights up.

“What the hell?” Erin says, directing her gaze at the fireworks over the river.

“The Fourth of July was almost a week ago,” Holtz shouts in the vague direction of the display as another firework explodes.

“Is it just some people messing around? Are fireworks legal in Virginia?”

“Nope.” Of course Holtz knows that.

Erin turns back. “Don’t think this gets you out of—” Another boom— “answering me.”

Movies are a pile of crap. Every movie that has ever had a romantic firework scene, where they go off just as a character sweeps another character into a passionate first kiss, owes Erin $10.

“What do you want me to say, Erin?”

“I want you to tell me the truth!”

At this point, the fireworks are getting louder and more frequent, causing them to raise their voices to be heard.

“THE TRUTH IS COMPLICATED,” Holtz shouts.

“YES OR NO, HOLTZMANN? DO YOU LIKE ME OR NOT?” Erin shouts back. The fireworks crescendo into what’s clearly some sort of finale.

“OF COURSE I DO,” Holtz shouts, but at that moment the fireworks end, so it’s just her shouting into the night. People look their way. Holtz blinks. “Okay, that was the shortest firework show ever.”

Erin stares dumbfounded at her. “You like me?”

“Of course, Erin,” Holtz says, sounding exasperated. “How could I not? You’re beautiful and smart and funny and your fingers wiggle when you dance and you laugh at my jokes and you’re a particle physicist, which is like, so hot, and you get all jazzed up during busts, and—” Holtz breaks off, suddenly looking embarrassed. “The point is, obviously I like you. Why else would I flirt with you? Well, besides the fact that it’s fun to watch you get flustered.”

“You—you said you flirt with everyone.”

Holtz shrugs. “I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t flirt with you the most.”

Erin opens and closes her mouth. She feels a little numb. Holtz likes her. “So…so if I like you…and you like me…”

“No, Erin, this doesn’t change anything. The answer is still no.”

“ _Why?_ Why, Holtz? What are you so afraid of? Please, I need to understand. Do you think I’m going to hurt you like she did?”

Holtz flinches. “No. Not…not like her.”

“Then _what?_ Why can’t we give this a shot?”

“Because sooner or later, someone will still get hurt! And it will probably be me!”

“Why do you think that? I’m not going to hurt you, Holtzmann. You’ve got to believe me.”

“Not intentionally, Erin, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen. It would never _last_. You’d come to your senses eventually or find someone better and realize what you’re _actually_ looking for, and you’ll _leave me_ behind.”

“What do you mean, ‘what I’m looking for?’ Don’t tell me what I’m looking for. I know what I’m looking for, and it’s _you_.”

“Don’t say that. You think you want me, but you only want the Jillian Holtzmann that’s standing in front of you. I’m going to change, and I’m going to do things that you don’t approve of, and I’m gonna say and do stupid shit, and one day I might be a completely different person, and you will too.”

“I don’t care if you change, Holtz. That’s what being human is all about.”

“Human? I’m not human. I’m a cybernetic time traveller.”

Erin sighs. “Holtz. Do you hear what I’m saying? I don’t _care_. You’re worth the risk.”

“Why? Why would you want to do that when we’re going to break up and there’s _nothing we can do about it?_ What’s the point of even trying?”

“What’s the point?” Erin gapes. “What’s the _point_ of opening yourself up to romance and sharing your life with someone? I don’t know, Holtz, if you don’t know the answer to that, if you can’t see any value to that at _all_ , then maybe this _is_ a lost cause. What kind of life is a life without love?”

“I know how to love, Erin. My life is filled with love. But you can have a perfectly great life without romantic love. Look at Abby.”

“Yes, okay, I won’t deny that. But…don’t you want to find love like that? Or are you…also like Abby?”

Holtz kicks at the ground. “I do. Want to. But it’s not going to fix anything, so again…what’s the point?”

“What do you mean, fix anything?” Erin thinks. “Hold on, you don’t actually believe that song, do you?”

“What song?”

“The one you were singing in the shower.” She tries to remember the lyrics. “Love isn’t enough to fill the void, or whatever? Do you really believe that, or is it just a song?”

“I don’t know. Yes.”

“Yes, you believe it, or yes it’s just a song?”

“Both.” Holtz scratches her neck. “Love is painted as this pretty picture where it’s enough to fix all of your problems, to _complete_ you, but that’s a fantasy. People talk about finding someone who loves them _because_ of their flaws, not despite them, yada yada…but the truth is that nobody loves fuckups like me. It’s just not going to happen.”

“First of all, you’re not a fuckup, Holtz. Not even close.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m a fuckup and nobody else is ever going to love me.”

The ‘nobody else’ doesn’t miss Erin’s attention. “Did…did she tell you that?”

Holtz licks her lips and Erin sees her jaw tense up. She doesn’t say anything, but somehow that’s an answer in itself. Erin exhales and wishes that Leah was standing in front of her so she could punch her for saying something like that to a young, vulnerable Holtz.

“You’re not a fuckup, Holtz,” Erin repeats gently. “No matter what she told you. You’ve made a few mistakes in your life. _Everyone_ has. And that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. Not even close.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Holtz scoffs, but Erin can see her lip wavering.

“You know how I know that? Because _I_ love you, Holtz. Seriously. I’m in love with you. And maybe you’ll never love me back, and that’s okay, but you need to believe me that I love you and nothing you’ve done in your past, no choices you’ve made or will _ever_ make will be enough to change that. Unless you’ve intentionally murdered someone. Or you voted for Trump. But no matter what you think of yourself and where you’ve been, _who_ you’ve been, I still love you. All of you. Every single version of you, not just the one standing across from me.” She didn’t plan on sharing that information, but it was out before she had a chance to stop herself. It hovers in the air between them, and she feels so much lighter, freer, but still terrified.

Holtz looks thoughtful. “What if I’ve _un_ intentionally murdered someone?”

“Holtzmann! I tell you that I _love_ you, and that’s all you have to say?” She pauses. “…Have you?”

“Not yet.”

“Good, that’s…I’m glad.”

“So…you love me, huh?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t change anything. It still isn’t enough.”

Erin inhales roughly. “Holtzmann, no, love _isn’t_ enough to ‘fix’ you.” She puts the word in air-quotations. “It’s not some magical solution to everything. It doesn’t erase, it doesn’t repair, it doesn’t compensate for all the parts of your life that you’re not proud of. But that doesn’t mean you should throw it out. I’ve only been in love for a short amount of time, but I already _know_ that all the potential pain is worth it. I’ve been rejected by you like ten times now, and I could’ve laid down and taken it, but I’m _fighting_ for this with everything I’ve got because I think we could have something incredible together if you’d just open yourself to the possibility. This trip with you? It’s been the best week of my life, and no, I’m not editing out the bad parts when I say that. I want this, Holtz, and I don’t want it to end. I want to spend my days with you. I want to see the world with you. I want to wake up in a bed beside you. I want to do stuff that I’m terrified of, because I know you’re by my side.”

Erin’s voice softens. “But if you still don’t want to at least _try_ , then I’m not going to push you any more. I’m not going to force you if you’re not ready or don’t want to. You are under absolutely no obligation at all just because of my feelings for you. But fear—there’s always going to be fear. You’re always going to be afraid to take the leap because you think you aren’t ready. But I’ll be _there_ for you _,_ Holtz, even when things get rough, and we’d figure it out together. Facing my past and the word ‘crazy’ hasn’t been easy for me, and I never thought I’d be able to move past it because it hurt me so deeply. But you’ve helped me, Holtz, you’ve talked me through it, and I’m so glad I took a chance even though I was scared. We can do the same for _your_ ghosts if you let me. Please,” she begs. “Take a chance on me. On _us_. Do something that scares you. Be crazy. And let’s figure this out together.”

That’s it. All her cards are on the table. Everything is out there. She has nothing left, no more fight. Now it’s just up to Holtz, standing in front of her in the night.

It all comes down to this moment.

 

_stars are only visible in darkness_

_fear is ever-changing and evolving_

_and I, I can poison the skies_

_and I, I feel so alive_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6/6! You made it!


	13. I bet my life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this today but I'm having a rough day and I want to put something happy out into the universe. I hope you enjoy <3

[I bet my life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QlqqhzLVFo)

 

_remember when I told you that’s the last you’ll see of me?_

_remember when I broke you down to tears?_

_I know I took the path that you would never want for me_

_I gave you hell through all the years_

With each second that passes, Erin becomes more and more sure that Holtz is going to reject her _again_ , that she just played all her cards for nothing.

If that’s the truth, she’s not sure how she’ll recover. But she’ll drop it, just like she promised. Maybe Holtz just needs more time, or maybe she’ll really never be ready to try dating again. Maybe—

Holtz takes a step forward, running her tongue along her top teeth, her jaw set in something that could be determination.

Erin’s fingers twitch at her sides.

Holtz takes another step forward, effectively putting herself into ‘personal bubble’ territory. She’s moving so slowly, which is very un-Holtzmann-like. Or maybe it is. At this point, Erin doesn’t know.

“Holtz,” she whispers.

Holtz steps that much closer. She moves her glasses to the top of her head. “You’ll walk me through this?”

“We’ll walk through it _together_ ,” Erin manages to get out.

Holtz slowly lifts one hand and ghosts her fingertips down Erin’s cheek. Erin shivers.

“You promise?”

They’re nose to nose now. Her eyes are so much bluer this close up. Erin didn’t know a blue like this existed.

“I swear.” Erin’s knees are shaking.

“On your life?” Holtz’s breath is warm on Erin’s face.

She trembles. “And my afterlife.”

“Good.”

At first, it’s just the lightest brush of lips against lips, a question, but almost instantly they collapse into each other, surrendering at last, bodies bending to mold into each other.

Erin takes it back, her comment about movies, because despite the silent sky above them, the fireworks are back.

She thought her first kiss with Holtz had been incredible, but this—with Holtz pressing against her, moving with her, kissing her like her life depends on it—is a whole other level that Erin could’ve never prepared for.

What was she doing with before she was kissing Holtz? Was any of it worth anything, or was it all just leading her to this?

Holtz pulls away just enough that their lips are no longer connected but are still only a fraction of an inch apart.

“Hm.”

“Hm?” Erin’s heart booms in her chest.

They pull further apart, enough to see each other’s faces.

“I think you might be right,” Holtz says, very matter-of-fact.

“About what?”

“That this is worth it. That there’s a point.”

Erin can only laugh a little hysterically.

Then Holtz leans in again, and this time her arms wrap all the way around Erin to bring them closer than she thought possible.

Erin loses all sense of time, forgets that they’re standing in the middle of the walkway along the canal in Richmond, Virginia, of all places. She ignores that they’re in public and that there are probably people watching them, and she doesn’t _care_ , because nothing matters but Holtz.

 

Eventually, they _do_ take note of their surroundings and come to some mutual, unspoken agreement to head back to the hotel.

As they walk, Erin keeps stealing glances at Holtz. She seems jittery, but not in a bad way.

“Erin?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I—do you want to—should we be holding hands, or something?”

Erin laughs lightly. “Do _you_ want to?”

“I don’t know. Yes?”

Erin holds her hand out, giving Holtz the control to do so, which she does a few seconds later, interlacing their fingers with such care and attention that Erin can only smile.

“Sorry if that was weird to ask,” Holtz says, scrunching up her face. “It’s been so long—I don’t know what I should be doing.”

“Hey.” Erin stops them and gives Holtz’s hand a little squeeze. “There’s no ‘should be,’ okay? We’re figuring this out as we go, remember? We’re going to do things our own way on our own time.”

Holtz dips her head. “Okay.”

“You don’t need to apologize for being unsure, and you _definitely_ don’t need to apologize for asking. That’s how we’re going to get through this, okay? Communication. Talking to each other about what’s working and what’s not working.”

Holtz looks relieved.

“For example,” Erin continues, “it seems like sometimes you don’t like being touched. Do you want me to always leave it up to you to initiate?”

Holtz licks her lips. “I…it’s only when I’m upset, I guess, or…surprised. I’ve always been like that. I don’t want…you to feel like you _can’t_ , but…”

Erin thinks. “How about I just always ask you first? That way you can say no if you need to, but it’s still letting me initiate if you say yes? And either way, you know what’s happening?”

“Yes. That would work.”

Erin smiles. “Okay. Good. See? We’re figuring it out already.”

Holtz beams, and it’s been so long since Erin’s seen her smile properly that the sight is kind of like staring right at the sun.

“You’re kinda awesome, Erin. You know that, right?”

Erin laughs. “You’re kinda awesome yourself, Holtz.”

 

It isn’t until they get in the elevator of their hotel that Erin remembers there’s only one bed in their room. She’s not sure how exactly she forgot that—although admittedly she’s been a little preoccupied since they left. She wonders if Holtz is thinking about it too.

Back in the room, Holtz doesn’t say anything about it as they take turns getting ready and changed for bed. Erin mistakenly takes the larger pair of pajamas and has to repeat her hair tie trick to get them to stay up.

Holtz snorts when she sees her. “So eager to get in my shorts, huh?”

Erin blushes.

A kind of awkward shyness settles in the room, and Erin knows that Holtz is thinking about that single bed now too.  

“Holtz…” Erin begins, but at that moment Holtz _also_ says: “Erin…”

They both laugh.

“You go,” Holtz says.

Erin fiddles with the hem on the shorts. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that there’s no pressure for…anything at all. Just because we have to share a bed…um…” Her face colours even more. “What I’m trying to say is that we can…wait…for as long as you need to feel comfortable, even if that’s…a very long time. And if it’s going to be weird tonight then I can sleep on the floor or something, and…yeah. I don’t know. Um…”

Holtz laughs. “You don’t need to sleep on the floor, Erin, although that’s very nice that you offered. I was also going to say that I didn’t think it was a good idea to have sex tonight.”

Ah, Holtz, always with the bluntness.

“So I’m glad you’re on the same page about waiting,” Holtz continues. “But between you and me—” She pauses to very obviously and deliberately sweep her gaze up and down Erin’s body— “I don’t think ‘a very long time’ is plausible. But again, thank you for your consideration.”

Erin coughs, feeling a little faint again. “Right, of course. I mean, we haven’t even been on a date yet.”

Holtz raises an eyebrow. “Really? I’d say we had a preeetty romantic first date in Charleston.”

Erin blinks as something occurs to her for the first time. “You…you lied.”

“What?”

“You lied. You made it seem like you had no idea why I first kissed you, why I thought you were interested. You made me feel like an idiot for reading into that dinner. But then you said that you were interested in me the whole time and that’s why you were flirting, and you said you knew that I liked you all along, and now you’re saying that that _was_ a date. Which means you were lying before—you knew exactly why I kissed you. You knew you were giving me signs.” She doesn’t know why it took her this long to realize that.

Holtz winces. “I…yeah. I did lie. I was being a selfish ass and having my cake without actually eating it, if that makes any sense. Flirting and displaying interest and being tickled by your response while simultaneously not wanting anything to happen. I made you feel like I wanted you, which I _did_ , but I also…didn’t. Because I was scared, etcetera, etcetera…I think we’ve more than covered that part. But I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have dangled you along like that and then been so horrified and surprised when you made a move. Of _course_ I knew why you did it, but I still didn’t want it to happen so I pretended I didn’t. I’m sorry, Erin. I’m really sorry.”

Erin exhales. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Thank you for apologizing. Um…there’s one other thing that I…that kind of hurt me. Why’d you flirt with that ziplining guide in front of me?”

“That really bothered you, huh? I kinda thought…that maybe that was it. I, uh, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. Really. I just…we shared a bed the night before, and that was…well, nice, but a little too close for comfort. I got scared. Again, I’m sorry.”

“One more,” Erin says, “just to have everything cleared up so I understand. You were attracted to me, but didn’t want to date me. You knew that I liked you back, but you didn’t know I wanted to date you. So…with dating off the table, why didn’t you just…did you consider, at all…”

Holtz clearly sees where Erin’s going with this. “Hook up with you? Just sex?”

Erin nods.

“I thought about it…a _lot_ , notttt gonna lie.”

Erin blushes again.

“But I think…even though I told you I didn’t want to date you, I think that was…a bit of a lie as well. To myself, not just you. I think I caught feelings for you, like, a hella long time ago, and that’s why deep down I resisted the impulse to have a bit of a fling with you, because I knew there was that _possibility_ of it leading into something that I wasn’t ready for. And I think the same goes for you…I think I always kind of knew that you were interested in something more as well. That’s why.”

That makes a lot of sense to Erin. “Okay. Thank you…I feel like I understand better. And…like you said…none of it really matters, now, right? Now we’re…together…and everything that brought us here, everything we said and did, it doesn’t matter.”

Holtz tilts her head and rubs her jaw. “Yes…and no.”

“What do you mean? I thought that was your philosophy?”

“I’ve been thinking about maybe…revising that a little.” Holtz shrugs. “It’s possible I was slightly wrong. Our pasts make us into who we are in the present, and you can’t just pretend they never happened. I try to live my life like…like a road trip. Rolling with whatever falls in my lap. Never stopping for too long. Being open to the possibilities of whatever might happen. But now I’m starting to see that I can’t do that without _also_ looking back at where I’ve been and what I’ve done and knowing that I wouldn’t be standing where I am if I hadn’t travelled to get there.”

“Life is about the journey, as they say,” Erin muses.

“They do say that, don’t they? I guess this isn’t, you know, a _novel_ idea or anything.”

“Still important, though. I’m glad we’re _both_ starting to see the value in accepting our lives for what they are, even the parts we’re ashamed of. I think that _maybe_ …this road trip served its purpose. And then some.”

Holtz laughs. “It’s possible.”

Erin yawns. “Think we could relocate? It’s been a long day.”

Holtz grins. “Let’s get in bed, cherry red.”

“Oh, that one’s kinda cute. I can get on board with that one.”

“I was inspired by your face a few minutes ago.”

Erin blushes.

Holtz points. “Like that!”

They climb into the bed and lay down facing each other. Erin studies the slope of Holtz’s jaw, the angle of her nose, the curve of her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Erin whispers.

Holtz smiles and wriggles forward in the bed so they’re closer together, then tilts her face forward to press her lips to Erin’s. Erin sighs happily into the kiss. Her hand reflexively moves to run down Holtz’s upper arm, but quickly pulls it away as soon as she remembers she shouldn’t do that without asking.

“You can leave it,” Holtz mumbles against her lips, “if you want.”

Erin replaces her hand, letting her fingertips curl loosely around Holtz’s bicep.

Holtz gives her a long and sweet kiss, then shifts and snuggles her head against Erin’s chest. Erin instinctively wraps her arms around her protectively to pull her in close.

“Is that okay?”

Holtz hums in what Erin thinks is a contented way. “This is nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

They’re silent for a few moments, just breathing together.

“Abby and Patty have been mysteriously super quiet today. Funny how that happens,” Holtz says.

“Letting us work things out, I guess,” Erin replies. “Should…should we tell them?”

“Ehhh. Leave ’em in suspense until we get back. It’ll be a fun surprise.”

Erin laughs. “How much do you think they’ve been talking about us?”

“Oh, _so_ much.”

They fall into comfortable silence again. After a few minutes, Holtz’s breaths even out and Erin realizes she’s fallen asleep.

She reaches to shut off the light and then sighs out all the stress of the past few days. What an emotional journey it’s been. She’s surprised she didn’t collapse from anxiety.

But to be here in this bed, holding Holtz in her arms…it makes it all worth it.

That’s the last thing she thinks before she drifts off to sleep as well.

 

_I’ve been around the world, and never in my wildest dreams_

_would I come runnin’ home to you_

_I’ve told a million lies but now I’ll tell a single truth_

_there’s you in everything I do_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	14. hopeless opus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home stretch :)

[hopeless opus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BoVKJq5Qvxs)

 

_I’ve been wrong, go long_

_throwing me a sharp right_

_it’s not a picture perfect life_

_not what I had in mind_

 

Erin wakes up to Holtz across from her like she was a few mornings ago, but this time she’s hit with the immediate reminder that they’re together now. This is her _life_ now. She gets to wake up next to Jillian Holtzmann. She never in a million years thought this would actually happen, that this would be her new reality, but here she is. This isn’t the life she would’ve imagined for herself—even a week ago—but now that she’s living it, she knows she wouldn’t change a single thing.

Holtz grins as soon as she sees that Erin is awake. “Morning.”

Erin yawns. “How long have you been awake and watching me?”

“Six hours.”

_“Six?”_

“Kidding. Two, tops.”

“Holtzmann!”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Oh my god.”

“Anyway, I’m glad you’re awake.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re cute and I wanna kiss you and I’m hungry for breakfast and we gotta _hit the road!”_

“Those are a lot of reasons.”

“You know it. Up and at ’em! It’s time to seize the day! And maybe the butt.”

“Carpe natem?”

“Is that the actual Latin word for ass? How do you know that?”

“I took a lot of Latin in college.”

“Course you did.”

 

They get dressed and eat breakfast downstairs.

“Before we head out,” Holtz says, “we should get some souvenirs.”

“Souvenirs?”

“From Richmond. Seems like an important place, now.”

Erin smiles into her Styrofoam cup of coffee. “Shirts, maybe? I could use a new one.”

“ _Excellent_ idea.”

“And then do you want to leave?”

“We probably should. We still have a ways to go and there’s one more thing I want to do before we go back home.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Kiss the maple syrup off your face, but after that there’s something else. I can’t tell you, though, or you’ll say no.”

Embarrassed, Erin reaches for a napkin and brings it up to her mouth. Then she pauses. “Wait, hold on a second…”

Holtz cracks up.

“I’m not…eating a waffle… _Holtzmann._ ”

“I wanted to see if you’d believe me.”

“Why did I fall for that?”

“Because you’re distracted and in looOOOoove with me.”

“I regret telling you that.”

Holtz winks and smirks behind her cup of orange juice.

 

They find a tourist shop and buy matching gaudy t-shirts with _RICHMOND_ plastered across the chest. Holtz buys hers three sizes too big (“It’s tradition now!”) and they go back to the hotel to change into them and check out.

The backpack is very full now, and a lot heavier than Erin would like.

“If we ever do another road trip, we’re taking a car,” she says. “No more lugging around our stuff on my back.”

“You’re a champ,” Holtz replies. “Would you really go on another one of these?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On what this mystery stop you want to make is and whether or not it’ll make me regret everything.”

Holtz laughs.

Well, that’s not reassuring at all.

They go back down to the Riverfront where they first kissed last night, and take a series of photos in their matching Richmond shirts.

“We won’t send these ones to the others just yet,” Holtz says, looking at her phone screen. “They’re good, though. Going in the scrapbook for _sure._ ”

Erin peers down at the screen, looks at how goofy they look in their ridiculous matching shirts, how _happy_ they look, and smiles.

“Definitely.”

 

It’s a little bittersweet to drive out of the city and leave it behind, but somehow Erin knows they’ll visit again.

Soon, they’re back on the I-95 with the sun beating down and the wind blowing through their hair. Erin’s going to miss this, in a weird way. Sure, the backpack is heavy, and sure, her arms keep cramping up from gripping around Holtz, and sure, she’s pretty much been anxious about falling off ever since they left New York, but it’s still nice. Maybe once they’re back in New York, they’ll have to go out for drives around the city.

They drive for a while, stopping at one rest stop, pass Washington, and finally exit at the signs for Baltimore. Is this the mystery destination? What’s in Baltimore?

Holtz pulls into a parking lot and shuts off the bike. “Welcome to Baltimore’s Inner Harbour.”

“Is this what we came for?” Erin looks out at the piers.

“Nah. I just thought it might be a good place for lunch. I happen to be a fan of food and it seems like we haven’t eaten nearly enough on this trip.”

“That’s a fair assessment.”

After they pay, they walk down to the Inner Harbour in search of a restaurant.

“Hey,” Holtz says, “hey, hey, Erin.”

“What?”

“I saw a great restaurant when we were driving in.”

“Oh? What’s it called?”

“Hooters.”

“ _Holtz_.”

“What?”

“You’re kidding, right? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“They make good wings.”

“Holtzmann.”

“Alriiight.”

 

They end up at the Cheesecake Factory instead, where Holtz (somewhat horrifyingly) orders a macaroni and cheese burger.

“You’re going to die by 40,” Erin says.

“At least I’ll go out living my life to the fullest,” Holtz says with a wink.

Erin goes for a simple tomato basil pasta, and Holtz actually boos her choice.

“Holtz, my best life does not include a macaroni and cheese burger.” Erin ignores the small chuckle from their server as she leaves with their menus.

“You can’t say that without trying it.”

“Yes, I assure you that I can.”

“Sure, sure.” Holtz takes a sip from her root beer and props her chin on her fist. “So, Erin, tell me about yourself.”

Erin raises her eyebrow as she takes a drink from her cucumber lemonade. “Really, Holtz?”

“What?” Holtz smirks around her straw and takes another loud pull.

“Haven’t we learned enough about each other on this trip?” Erin jokes.

Holtz snorts. “I meant like…favourite colour. Favourite subject in school. Guilty pleasure show. Favourite explosion you’ve caused. Second-to-least favourite music genre.”

Erin counts on her fingers as she runs through them. “Uh, grey, physics, _Say Yes to the Dress_ , uhhh…not applicable? And…repeat the last one?”

“Second-to-least favourite music genre. Least favourite is boring because everyone says country.”

“People who like country wouldn’t say country.”

“Fine, noted. _Do_ you like country?”

“I like Shania Twain.”

Holtz waves her hand dismissively. “Well, duh.”

“But my second-to-least favourite genre is…probably country.”

Holtz thunks her forehead to the table.

Erin laughs. “What? It’s true! My least favourite is electronic.”

Holtz lifts her head. “I like a woman who defies expectations.”

Erin blushes and takes another swig of lemonade. “What about you? What are your answers?”

Holtz rattles her answers off rapid-fire. “Cherenkov blue, freeform interpretive math, _Spongebob Squarepants_ , February 14th 1996, bluegrass.”

Erin squints. “Freeform interpretive math? What does that mean?”

Holtz shrugs. “Whatever you want it to mean. Solving math in whatever way makes sense to you. I danced a lot.”

“You danced…to solve mathematical equations?”

“A-yup.”

“That’s…interesting. I’ve never heard of that.”

Holtz shoots double finger guns. “Homeschooling the Holtzmann way.”

“And…what was that date? Dare I want to know about your favourite explosion?”

Holtz grins and leans back in the booth with her arms crossed behind her head. “Okay. I was 12, and this really pretty girl moved down the street from me and I wanted to woo her. So I thought, hey, what’s a more romantic Valentine’s Day spectacle than some flashy pyrotechnics? So I whipped up a batch of nifty homemade flash powder and set up a large display on the street outside her house where she’d be sure to see it…let’s just say the poof was about 5-6 times larger than anticipated and the fire department had to be called, which ended up working in my favour because…”

As Holtz talks, Erin gets distracted just watching her, how animated she’s getting, how excited, and how adorable she is like this (if mildly terrifying).

She’s still talking.

“…and lemme tell you, once she had heard _that_ she stopped talking to me for a solid month, but it all worked out in the end, right? I mean, it was legendary. The other kids in the neighbourhood didn’t stop talking about it for years, and…” She trails off. “What?”

“What?”

“Why are you looking me like that?”

“You’re just cute, that’s all.”

“That so?”

“Yep. Really cute.”

“In that case…” Holtz slides from the book and before Erin can process what’s happening she’s come around and is crawling in on Erin’s side of the table and onto her lap. She twists and squirms in Erin’s lap and then once she settles, she reaches across to grab her drink.

“Comfy?” Erin asks.

“Just about.” Holtz takes a long pull from her drink and then sets it onto the table. “Ahh.” She smacks her lips. “There we go. Now I’m comfy.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Wait, one more thing.” Holtz leans down for a long kiss. When she pulls away she’s got a satisfied smile on her face. “There.”

Erin feels a little light-headed. “There,” she echoes.

“Need a photo of this,” Holtz says. “Get your phone. Mine’s in my jacket.”

Erin obliges and retrieves her phone from her own jacket beside her. She goes to open the camera but pauses when she sees her notifications. “Oh, we got texts from the others.”

[12:22pm] Abby: _Are you still alive? When can we expect you home?_

Holtz hums. “Tonight?”

“You think?”

“Yeah…I think so.”

[12:41pm] Erin: _We’re still alive. Tentatively, we will be home tonight. We’re in Baltimore right now._

[12:42pm] Abby: _Okay…….._

Holtz chuckles. “You know she’s dying to ask.”

The words are barely out of her mouth when Erin’s phone vibrates with a message from Abby not in the group chat.

[12:42pm] Abby: _Is everything okay or still bad?_

Erin’s thumbs hover over the keyboard. “What do I say?”

“Say that you’ll tell her in person.”

[12:44pm] Erin: _I’ll tell you in person when we get back._

There’s no response, which probably means Abby’s currently shouting her frustration at Patty.

Erin laughs at the thought. “They’re going to kill us when we show up and tell them.”

“Absolutely. I can’t wait.”

Erin smiles as she opens her camera. “Photo?”

“Let’s do it, shplooit.”

“Stop that.”

Holtz laughs into Erin’s neck. Erin snaps a few photos like that, then a few more when Holtz looks up. When she’s done, she swipes through them. They’re all cute, but her favourite is one she didn’t even realize she took, at the moment that Holtz said ‘shplooit.’ Her thumb must’ve hit the button while she was distracted. In the photo, Erin’s face is exasperated in what’s clearly endearment, a smile held back on her lips. She looks completely in love. It’s blurry, but somehow perfect all the same.

“I like that one,” Holtz says.

“I do too,” Erin murmurs.

At that moment, their server appears with two plates of food. She takes in their position with amusement.

An Erin from a week ago may have been embarrassed to be caught like this. Now, she’s blasé while Holtz slides from her lap to sit beside her.

Erin really, truly doesn’t care what the server thinks of them.

“Y’all are cute,” she says as she sets their plates down.

Okay, maybe Erin cares about _that_.

“Thank you,” they reply simultaneously.

“Enjoy!” she chirps. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Holtz rubs her hands together as she takes in her macaroni and cheese burger. Erin shakes her head as she picks up her cutlery.

Holtz takes a massive bite from her heart attack of a burger and then without bothering to really chew, says, “You handled that well.”

Erin somehow manages to understand her despite the food in her mouth. “The server?”

Holtz nods.

“I was just thinking about that. How much I’ve changed over the past week. That’s kind of scary, actually.”

Holtz finally swallows her mouthful of food. “Changing?”

“Just…changing that fast.” Erin stabs a few penne noodles and chews thoughtfully.

“You haven’t changed though, not really.”

Erin swallows. “I don’t know, Holtz…I think I have. I would’ve been _so_ embarrassed by that a week ago.”

Holtz shrugs. “You’re still the same person. Just braver. More confident. I know I’ve been talking a lot about people changing, but let’s…throw out that word. It’s not changing, it’s…” She takes another large bite of her burger. “Evomphh.”

“Huh?”

She waits for Holtz to chew and swallow. “Evolving,” she repeats. “You’ve evolved into a better you.”

“I’ve evolved,” Erin says. “Yeah, I guess…I have.”

Holtz shoves five fries into her mouth. “This bodes well for my plans for us after lunch.”

“Uh?”

“Don’t worry.”

“That’s exactly the way to get me _to_ worry.”

“Don’t. Really. It’ll be fine.”

“If you say so...” Erin says uneasily. She takes a few more bites of her lunch. “What if I’m scared of evolving?”

“Then you’re in good company. But whether you like it or not, you’re going to evolve. That’s just part of life, of being human. You said that, remember?”

“I know.”

“It’s the next logical step.”

“I know.”

“But you’ll still be Erin Gilbert. Always. That will never change. Now, maybe you’re just Erin Gilbert who cares a little less about what people think of her. Just like I’m Jillian Holtzmann who tries dating again even though she’s terrified. We evolve, we move forward, we grow, but we’re still _us_.”

“We evolve,” Erin agrees.

 

After they’ve finished their meal, they walk for a bit along the piers.

“Is your plan here in Baltimore?” Erin asks.

“It can be.”

What is _that_ supposed to mean?

They head back to the parking lot where they left the bike and take off again. They drive around, up and down streets in a seemingly aimless way, and it’s like Holtz is looking for something but she has no idea what. The anticipation is driving Erin crazy.

Then suddenly Holtz pulls into another parking lot. Erin’s not exactly sure why they’re stopping—there doesn’t appear to be much of interest around here. They get off the bike and Holtz does a sort of skip as they head down the street.

“Please tell me what’s happening,” Erin says.

“You’ll see. Soon.”

All Erin sees are a series of shops, none of them notable. Holtz leads her down the block and then abruptly stops in front of one of the storefronts.

“What’s—” Erin looks up at the sign and stops dead. “Wh— _Holtzmann?_ This isn’t…this is a joke, _right?”_

It’s a tattoo parlour. And Holtz has one hand on the door. She flashes a grin. “Hundred percent serious.”

“ _What?!”_ Erin all but screeches.

Holtz opens the door and walks inside. Erin stares after her dumbfounded for a few seconds, then catches the door before it swings shut and steps inside after her.

“ _Holtz,”_ she hisses. “This is…this is…”

“Crazy?”

“ _Yes!”_ Erin’s nearly hyperventilating. “I said no! Twice!”

“Erin. Breathe. We aren’t here for you.”

“We aren’t— _what?”_ It takes a second for the meaning of that to sink in. “You mean, you’re…”

A young-looking girl with blue hair and full tattoo sleeves on both arms has appeared at the counter. “Hey there!” she says brightly. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hello,” Holtz says. “Do you happen to have anyone available for a walk-in?”

“Absolutely! I’m actually available right now. What’s your name?”

“Holtzmann.”

“Nice to meet you, Holtzmann! I’m Kara. Why don’t we go talk about what you’re envisioning and see if I can make it happen?”

All Erin can do is follow in horror as they head over to a consultation area.

“And what’s your name?”

Erin blinks. “Uh…” There’s a godawful buzzing filling the studio and it makes her throat constrict.

Holtz chuckles. “That’s Erin, my girlfriend. She didn’t know we were coming here.”

Erin can’t even really appreciate the feeling of Holtz calling her ‘her girlfriend’ because she’s too paralyzed.

“Nice to meet you, Erin,” Kara says with a warm smile. “If there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable, let me know.”

“She’ll be fine once she gets over the shock.” Holtz pats Erin’s arm.

Kara laughs. “How long have you been together?”

“About 16 hours,” Holtz says cheerfully.

“Oh! Congratulations.”

“Thank you. We’re on a road trip of self-discovery. Erin suggested we get tattoos on this trip, so here we are!”

That snaps Erin from her panic trance. “I was _joking,_ Holtz.”

“Ah, but you should know by now that I’m always up for anything, joking or not.” She jabs her thumb in Erin’s direction. “Like I said, she didn’t know this was happening. It’s more fun that way.”

Kara grins. “So what are you thinking?”

“A ghost,” Holtz says immediately. “On my left butt cheek.”

“ _Holtzmann.”_

“Right butt cheek?”

“ _No.”_

“Kidding.” Holtz smirks and taps the inside of her wrist. “Right here. Just a tiny lil dude.”

“Cool,” Kara replies. “Why don’t we sketch up some designs? For something that small, I’ll have no problem squeezing you in today.”

“Are you seriously getting a ghost tattoo?” Erin blurts. “Isn’t that a little…I don’t know, _ironic?_ ”

Kara looks up with interest at that.

“Exactly,” Holtz says. “It’s perfect.”

“And…on your wrist? So visible? Don’t you think that’s unprofessional?”

“Erin. We hunt ghosts for a living. A ghost tattoo is the _most_ professional.”

“We don’t _hunt_ them,” Erin corrects.

“We bust them.” Holtz mimes firing a proton gun.

Kara’s face lights up. “I thought you looked familiar! The Ghostbusters, right? I see you on the news all the time! Oh man, that’s perfect for you.”

“See, Erin, Kara thinks it’s a great idea.”

“I never said it was a _bad_ idea, just…you know…I want to make sure you’ve thought it through.”

“Erin. Dear, sweet Erin. I appreciate the concern, but I’ve never thought anything through in my life and I’m not about to start now. No regrets, remember? And even if I _was_ prone to regrets, how could I possibly regret this? It’s the perfect souvenir from this trip.”

“A wacky pencil sharpener is a souvenir,” Erin says. She takes hold of her shirt. “A t-shirt is a souvenir. A tattoo is a lifelong commitment.”

“Well when you put it _that_ way…tat me up, Kara.”

“ _Holtz.”_

“Erin, listen to me. I’ve wanted to get a tattoo for aaages but I could never land on an idea I liked. But this? It’s perfect.”

“Fine,” Erin resigns. “It’s your skin and your life. And I’m sure it won’t…be terrible.”

“That’s the spirit. Pun intended.”

 

Erin watches as Kara sketches out a design that is, admittedly, pretty cute. It’s small and nondescript, just simple black lines.

It’s still crazy. 100%, undoubtedly crazy.

It is Holtz, though, so what else can Erin expect at this point?

Once they’ve settled on a design, they relocate to the back of the studio, where another artist is working on a man’s leg, which is clearly the source of the buzzing. Kara gives them a tour of where they sterilize their equipment, and discusses what to expect.

Erin is only half listening to whatever Kara’s saying. All she can hear is the buzzing. She barely registers what’s happening as Kara transfers the sketched design onto Holtz’s wrist.

Holtz holds it up excitedly. “Look! Don’t you think it’s going to look cool?”

Erin can barely get out a noise of agreement.

Holtz settles into a big chair with her arm outstretched while Kara preps the ink and stuff. Erin tries really hard to not look at everything else going on.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks anxiously.

“Absolutely.”

Erin swallows. “Are you scared?”

“Nah. I’m not afraid of anything.”

Erin snorts.

“Let me rephrase that. I’m not afraid of physical pain.”

“There you go.”

“Are you?”

“Afraid of pain? Yes, because I’m an intelligent being.”

“Shots fired.”

“I didn’t mean you’re _not._ ”

“I know.”

Kara holds up her tattoo gun. “Are we ready?”

“No,” Erin says.

Holtz laughs. “Hit me.”

A new buzzing starts, much closer, and Erin wills herself to keep her eyes on Holtz’s face. It remains smooth and she barely flinches, but then after a few seconds her expression twists into contemplation.

“Hm.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Oh yes,” Holtz says, lighting up in a smile. Her eyes are two tiny blue flames. “This is _awesome_.”

“Sometimes I’m concerned about you,” Erin says.

 

The tattoo doesn’t take that long, given how small it is, and before Erin knows it, Kara has put down the machine and is wiping off Holtz’s wrist.

That’s when Erin gets her first real look at [the tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/64/1e/86/641e8685457fa0a2e3157b8f0b85a4c9.jpg).

Holtz’s whole inner wrist is red, but the tattoo itself is _cute._ Perfect, somehow. It’s subtle, just a line drawing that’s even simpler than their Ghostbuster’s logo and doesn’t resemble _actual_ ghosts in the slightest, but still represents them in a strange way.

Something pangs inside Erin.

“What do you think?” Holtz says.

“I like it,” Erin murmurs. “More than I thought I would.”

Holtz grins. “ _Nice._ You know, you could get one too.”

Strangely, the first thing that comes out of Erin’s mouth isn’t _no_ , but: “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

Holtz raises an eyebrow. “Weird?”

“Getting matching tattoos?”

Holtz still looks like she doesn’t see a problem with that.

“Because we’re dating?” Erin continues. “Matching tattoos?”

“Oooh. Pssh. They don’t have to be _couple_ tattoos. That would obviously be weird. Just…road trip memories. You could get one that’s half the size of mine to continue the trend.”

Erin laughs. “I can’t believe we’re discussing this like I might actually do it.”

“So it’s a firm no, still?”

“It’s a…” Erin trails off, her gaze landing again on the tattoo. She feels a strange pull to it again. “It’s a…” she repeats, quieter.

“Yeeesssss?”

Erin bites her lip. “Okay,” she blurts.

“ _What?”_ Holtz blinks. “You’re joking, right?”

“No,” Erin says, her voice wavering only a little. “I’m not. I’ll do it.”

“Uhh…” Holtz looks at Kara, then back at Erin. “You don’t have to…it was only…please don’t feel like you have to prove something to me.”

Determined, Erin squares her shoulders. “I don’t. I want to do it. It’s cute, and I like it, and I’m going to be crazy and put it on my body as a reminder of this trip and all that I’ve learned.”

“You. You, Erin Gilbert, are going to put a ghost tattoo on your body.”

“Yes. It feels like a lot of what’s happened in my life has been outside of my control, and for once I want to do something for myself. I don’t care what people are going to say about us having matching ghost tattoos. I’m not going to think about what Patty and Abby are going to say. I want to do this. For me. To prove something to _myself._ I’m going to put a ghost tattoo on my wrist, and it’s going to be a daily reminder that ghosts are real, and a reminder that I’ve overpowered all my ghosts and did something truly crazy to document it. It’ll be a symbol of everything that this trip stood for. All of it.”

Holtz lets out a low whistle. “Damn…go Erin.” She sounds in complete disbelief.

Erin is a little in disbelief too, but despite this being the _furthest_ thing from what she thought she’d agree to do on this trip, she can’t think of a better way to close it out.

She turns to Kara and extends her arm. “Hi, I would like one tattoo, please.”

 

_let me write my own line_

_I’ve got this place_

_that I’ve filled with empty space_

_I’m trying not to face what I’ve done_

 


	15. who we are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready? :)

[who we are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2hIavE58Fc)

 

_out with the reason_

_in with the season_

 

Erin has never felt more alive than she does right now as they drive homebound on the I-95. The sun warms every molecule of her being. Her wrist stings in a way that reminds her of all that she’s done, all that she’s seen, all that she _is._ Her arms are snug and secure around Holtz’s midsection.

She’s safe, happy, and in love.

Oh, how far she’s come in a week.

They drive at a lazy pace, stopping frequently just because they can’t drive for too long without missing each other and needing to stop for a kiss break. At one rest stop, Erin doesn’t even let Holtz get all the way off the bike before she’s pulling her in by the lapels of her leather jacket to kiss her fiercely (after asking permission, of course).

“This is hot,” Holtz gets out between kisses.

“It is pretty sweltering.” That’s one thing Erin won’t miss about this trip—wearing several layers of clothes in the July sun.

Holtz laughs against her lips. “I didn’t mean that kind of hot.”

Erin breaks away. “I can never get it right, can I?”

Holtz grins and pulls her back in.

 

Erin is a little surprised when they exit off the interstate at the signs for Philadelphia. They just got gas not long ago, and it’s too early for dinner. She thought they were just driving straight through to New York.

“What are we doing here?” she asks when Holtz parks the bike.

“We never did get to see anything here before we jetted off to Washington,” Holtz says. “Thought we could check out some sights, if you’re interested?”

“Can we see the Liberty Bell?”

“Hell yeah!”

They shed their coats and stuff them into the crammed backpack, which Holtz valiantly offers to carry to give Erin a break.

“Holy,” she says when she swings it over her shoulder. “You’ve been lugging that around?”

“Yep,” Erin replies proudly.

Holtz whistles. “Damn. Erin Gilbert.” She says Erin’s name like she’s something miraculous, a god.

As they walk, Holtz’s fingers graze the side of Erin’s hand, then retract. Erin gives her an encouraging smile to tell her that it’s okay, and then after a moment of hesitation, Holtz fumbles their fingers together to interlock. Their clasped hands swing between them as they stroll through the streets of Philadelphia, and Erin is content.

 

They make to the Liberty Bell Center, and have to go through security. The officer digs through their backpack, which admittedly is a little suspicious, but doesn’t find anything. Then they empty out all their pockets, and the officer holds up a small, red, familiar object with a frown.

“Ma’am, you can’t bring this into the building. It classifies as a weapon.”

It’s Erin’s Swiss Army knife, the one Holtz gave her.

She opens and closes her mouth, looks at Holtz with panic.

Holtz shrugs. “You can get rid of it. I won’t be upset.”

Get _rid_ of it?

Erin shakes her head firmly. “No. No, I’m not getting rid of it. This isn’t worth it. Screw the Liberty Bell.”

Holtz’s mouth twitches up. “You serious?”

“Yes. I’d rather leave without seeing it than give up that knife. It means too much to me.”

The security officer is watching them with one eyebrow raised.

Erin turns to him. “We’ll leave. Thank you.” She gathers the knife and the rest of her things.

“It was a gift,” Holtz offers to him as some sort of explanation.

He doesn’t say anything.

They grab the backpack and head back outside.

“Well, that was a bust,” Holtz says.

“I don’t care.” Erin crosses her arms. “I’d never get rid of that knife.”

Holtz chuckles. “I would’ve got you a new one. With my patented Holtzmann extensions, no less.”

Erin releases her arms. “Extensions?”

“Just a few extra attachments, improved functionality, could double as an explosive device if needed, the usual.”

Erin’s mouth twitches up. “Sounds great, but I’d rather have this one over a new-and-improved one. This one was yours, after all.” She doesn’t actually know if that’s true. She’s always suspected it, given how well-loved it seemed when Holtz gave it to her, but she’s never known for sure.

Holtz smiles. “That’s true. It was. Since I was a little kid.”

Erin smiles back, a warm feeling spreading in her chest.

“I made the right choice, then.”

“Yeah,” Holtz says. “Yeah, you did.”

 

They forgo the rest of Philadelphia, vowing to come back sometime, prepared, and actually see something. Right now, Erin doesn’t care. She’s gotten everything out of the city that she needs to. Everything out of the _trip_ that she needs to. They head out, and the next time they stop, it’s at another rest stop to stretch.

Holtz heads to the bathroom while Erin checks her phone.

[6:10pm] Patty: _are yall actually coming home tonight like u said?_

[6:47pm] Erin: _Yes. We’re about an hour or so away._

[6:48pm] Abby: _Finally!!_

[6:49pm] Patty: _cool cool_

Erin laughs to herself, once again remembering that they don’t know that the two of them are dating now.

“Whatcha laughing at?” Holtz says, having returned from the bathroom. She leans on Erin’s shoulder to read off her screen.

“I’m just imagining the looks on their faces when we show up and tell them.”

“Ten bucks says they’ve made a bet about us.”

“Who bet on which outcome?”

“Patty says we’ve gotten together. Abby thinks I’m too emotionally stunted to ever cave. I’m calling it.”

“Hmmm…I don’t know about that. I think they both think we’ve gotten together.”

“Psssh. Abby knows me too well for that.”

“Clearly she doesn’t,” Erin points out. “Because you _did_ cave.”

“Only because you’re stubborn as hell and you weren’t going to let me say no without a fight,” Holtz jokes.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Holtz grins and leans in for a kiss. “Yeah. It did.”

 

_it’s who we are  
doesn’t matter if we’ve gone too far_

 

Erin starts to get really excited as they exit off the I-95 for the last time and drive into familiar territory. Over 2000 miles, 9 states seen, just to come back here to New York. It feels like it shouldn’t be the same, not when so much has changed for them. Or evolved, as Holtz would put it. But the city seems just as it did when they left, just as recognizable.

They’ve agreed to swing by the firehouse before they go home, just to get their other stuff. Plus, there’s the possibility that Abby and Patty have hung around and are waiting for them to get back, even at the late-ish hour. They pull up to Holtz’s spot outside the firehouse, and for a few seconds all they can do is stare up at it.

“This is weird,” Erin says.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. What if…what if everything that’s been working between us has only been working because we’ve been away? What if everything crumbles now that we’re back to reality?”

Holtz snorts. “Erin, you think too much. What do you mean, ‘back to reality’? Has this past week _not_ been reality? Have we been asleep and dreaming this whole time? _Are we even alive?”_

“Stop that. I just mean…back to seriousness, I guess.”

“Why do we have to go back to seriousness? I’m never serious.”

“Holtz. I’m really talking about me. What if the person I am on this trip…isn’t sustainable? What if I go back to the old Erin?”

Holtz wraps her arms around Erin and stands on her tiptoes to kiss her forehead. “There’s no way to go back after you evolve. There’s only forward. And that’s where we’re going to go. Forward. Together.”

“Forward together,” Erin repeats. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

 

It takes all of two seconds after stepping into the firehouse for them to be surrounded and tackle-hugged by Abby and Patty.

“You’re back!” Abby shouts.

Erin holds her hand out of harm’s way so her freshly-tattooed and bandaged wrist doesn’t get bumped.

“Oh man,” Patty says. “It feels like we haven’t seen y’all in _forever_. How _are_ you?”

They release them and step back to take them in. Erin and Holtz exchange a glance.

“Back in matching duds, I see,” Abby says. “What does that mean?”

Patty elbows her. “Don’t push them right away.”

Holtz’s eyes dance with mischief. “Are we wearing matching shirts? I didn’t notice.”

“No, I didn’t either. That’s strange.”

“Really strange.”

Patty’s eyes dart back and forth between them. “So you, uh, you’re good now?”

“I thought we weren’t ‘pushing’ them?” Abby says.

“Shush.”

“I don’t know,” Holtz says. “Does _this_ look like we’re good?”

Then she pulls Erin in what she thinks is supposed to be a sweeping dip to kiss her, but Erin trips and they both tumble down, down, in slow motion, until they land on the ground in a tangle of limbs.

They both burst out laughing.

“What was that supposed to be?” Erin chokes out.

Holtz wipes at her eyes. “I don’t know! Why’d you fall?”

“Uhhhhh…” Patty says. “You mind explaining what in the hell _that_ was?”

They ignore her. Holtz moves her glasses to the top of her head and grins as she reaches out to tuck Erin’s hair behind her ear. Then she leans in swiftly to kiss her nose, then lips. Erin shifts so she’s in a better position and returns the kiss.

“Um,” Abby says.

“HA!” Patty shouts. “I _knew_ it! Pay up!”

“Damn it!”

Erin and Holtz pull apart and Holtz grins up at them. “Did you bet on us getting together?”

“Yes, and I won,” Patty says proudly.

“Abby, you didn’t think it would happen?” Erin says. “Seriously?” Looks like Holtz was right after all.

Abby holds her hands up. “Hey, I _wanted_ you to, but I mean…I didn’t have much faith that you’d talk it out like big girls. Or that Holtz would, you know, get her act together.”

Holtz hoots loudly and throws her arms up in the air. “CALLED IT.”

Erin grumbles. “Thanks, Abby, now I’m out ten dollars.”

“ _Ten?_ I owe Patty two hundred!”

“ _What?_ ”

“The pot increased each day because we also had bets on when it would happen. I still didn’t think it would happen before you got back.”

“And now Patty’s getting paaaiid!” Patty dances in place. “Also, you know, I’m happy for y’all or whatever.”

Holtz pulls herself off the floor and then helps Erin up as well. “Love ya, Patty.”

“What the hell did you do to your wrists?” Abby asks. “Did you sign a blood oath or something? Join a cult?”

“Yes,” Holtz deadpans. “This whole trip was a ruse to get Erin to join the Church of the SubGenius.”

Erin elbows her and looks down at her bandaged wrist, then back at Holtz. “Ready to show them?”

“Hell yeah,” Holtz says, reaching for her own bandage.

They peel back the medical tape holding their matching bandages in place, exposing the tattoos underneath. Erin lets out a little gasp seeing hers again. She’d forgotten how much she likes it.

“Oh my god,” Patty says. “Are those _matching tattoos?_ ”

“Yep,” Holtz says proudly.

Abby stares at them, wide-mouthed. “You got matching tattoos? Where?”

“On our wrists.”

Abby shoots Holtz a look. “I meant what city.”

“Baltimore,” Erin says.

“The rhythm of town starts calling me down,” Holtz sings. “It’s like a message from hiiigh abboovvee.”

Erin ignores her. “Do you like them?”

“Welcome to Baaaltimooore!”

“They’re awesome,” Abby says. “I’m just… _you?_ A tattoo?”

“I know.”

“Man.” Patty shakes her head. “Matching PJs to matching tattoos in a week. Y’all are crazy.”

“Yeah,” Erin says proudly, “we are.”

 

It turns out that Abby and Patty haven’t eaten dinner yet, so they order pizza and the four of them convene up on the third floor to eat together.

“So? Tell us everything.” Patty grabs herself a slice of pizza.

Erin takes a bite of her own. “About the trip, or about us getting together?”

“Both?”

“I’m dying to know about Jacksonville,” Abby says. “I can’t believe you got to meet Holtz’s family. I didn’t even know that’s where they lived.”

In Erin’s peripherals, Holtz freezes.

“Oh, you know,” Erin says, “not much to report there.”

“What? How can there not be much to report?”

“Uhhh…well, when she was four she painted her entire body and ran naked down the street,” Erin says with a small smile, having a flashback to Ann saying the same thing.

Holtz relaxes. “And I did it again when I was fourteen, and I’ll do it again when I’m forty.” She smiles slyly and a bit gratefully at Erin. “Nothing embarrassing about that.”

“That’s the best you’ve got?” Abby says.

Erin shrugs. “That’s the best I’ve got,” she confirms.

“Well, that’s a letdown,” Abby says.

 

They tell stories from the trip, swapping back and forth, for the better part of an hour. Abby and Patty can’t believe some of the stuff they did.

Holtz proudly shows off her Jeep pencil sharpener from Fayetteville, which Erin had almost forgotten about, and her parachuting shirt, which Erin would _like_ to have forgotten about.

“Where’re our souvenirs?” Patty asks.

They exchange a glance. “Uhh…”

“You didn’t get us anything?” Abby’s mouth falls open.

“We were…preoccupied,” Holtz says.

Erin coughs.

Abby shakes her head. “Christ.”

“Okay, you gotta tell us how you finally got together, now. No more dodging it.”

Erin blushes. “It was last night. In Richmond.”

“There were fireworks,” Holtz says.

“By the river. And we talked.”

“And yelled a bit.”

“And kissed a bit.”

“A lot.”

“A lot.” Erin nods.

“That’s it?” Patty shakes her head. “That’s the whole story?”

“Pretty much,” Holtz says, ripping her seventh slice of pizza in half with her teeth and then gulping it down like a bird.

Patty gives Erin a look like _this is who you’re dating?_

All Erin can do is smile and incline her head in a subtle nod. Yes, yes she is. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“So what did we miss while we were gone? Anything exciting?”

Abby shrugs at Erin. “I think you had a more eventful week than we did.”

“Kevin spilt juice on his keyboard,” Patty says.

“I heard about that, yeah.”

“Oh, no, you only heard part of it,” Abby says.

“The boy went out and bought an _entirely_ new computer instead of just a keyboard.” Patty pinches the bridge of her nose. “Then he threw out the old one. In the actual garbage.”

“We had to dig it out of the dumpster to retrieve his files, and the screen had already shattered.”

“Aw, I missed dumpster diving?” Holtz pouts.

“Trust me, we wanted you here to do it for us.”

“Sounds eventful to me,” Erin says.

Patty sighs. “That’s ’bout all that happened. No busts, nothing. You saw more ghost action than we did.”

Abby perks up. “You never sent me the video from Savannah. I saw Holtzmann’s snaps, but I couldn’t make much out.”

“There was a ghost there, alright,” Erin says. “Just a Class I vapour, nothing serious. But Savannah is definitely haunted. We’ll have to go back someday. At the very least just to check it out. They might be annoyed if we bust their main tourist attractions.”

“I’m sure they could afford to lose one or two in the name of science.”

Holtz puts her hand up. “I just want to go on a ghost tour and be super obnoxious. Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes,” they all say simultaneously.

“Seriously, though,” Abby says. “Ghostbusters trip to Savannah in the near future?”

“We’ll see,” Erin says.

 

_doesn’t matter if it’s all okay  
doesn’t matter if it’s not our day_

 

After a few hours of talking, both Erin and Holtz start yawning. It’s been a long day after a long week, and Erin is completely beat.

“We should head home,” Patty says, noticing their yawns. “Gotta start bright and early tomorrow morning. Y’all have been slacking for a week.”

They pack up what’s left of the pizza and leave it in the third floor fridge, then get ready to go. Erin grabs her purse from where she left it.

“I can give you a lift home,” Holtz says. “No purse, though.”

Erin rolls her eyes, but plucks her keys from the purse and stashes it back in her locker. She grabs the backpack for what’s hopefully the last time.

“See you guys tomorrow,” Erin calls.

The drive to Erin’s apartment is weird. It’s strange driving through a familiar city like this when all she’s seen are brand new places for a week.

Holtz parks on the street outside Erin’s apartment when they get there. “Can I walk you up?”

Erin nods.

When she lets them into the apartment, she’s hit with the kind of stagnant smell that comes from being gone for a week. She flicks lights on and takes in the unchanged room, the familiar grey walls, white couch, plush carpet, flat screen on the wall. In the kitchen, there’s still a few dishes in the sink from the morning they left.

She looks back to see Holtz still leaning in the open doorway. “You can come in…”

Holtz ducks into the room and shuts the door behind her. She’s only been to Erin’s apartment a few times, and never for long.

“You want some water or anything?”

Holtz shakes her head. “I’m good.” She strolls into the room and pauses by the couch, picking up a framed photo on the end table. “Is this…”

“Eddie,” Erin confirms. She only put it out a few months ago. It’s a photo of the two of them at around six years old. Before everything fell apart. Before the ghost.

“Wow,” Holtz says. “You look so much alike.”

Erin gives a sad smile. “He emailed a current picture not long ago. He has a long-term partner, now. Not married, because they can’t, obviously, but they’ve been together for ten years, apparently.”

“Would you ever want to fly out there and see them?”

Erin shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, yes, of course, because he’s my brother—my _twin_ brother—but still, it’s…I don’t know.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

Erin supposes she does. She clears her throat. “What about you?”

“Would I want to fly to Australia to meet your twin brother? Hell yeah.”

“Good to know, but I meant…California.”

Holtz sets the photo back on the end table. “Right.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s fine, I…I don’t know either. I’d love to meet my niece and nephew, and see Jake and stuff…”

Erin doesn’t say anything. Waits for Holtz to finish.

Holtz rubs at her neck. “I just feel like I couldn’t go all the way there and not meet…”

She trails off, but Erin knows who she means.

“That’s okay,” she says. “I was just wondering.”

“If I did,” Holtz says slowly. “If I did work up the courage to go…to meet…her.” She stares down Erin, unblinking. “Would you…go with me?”

That comes as a surprise to Erin, even though Holtz had sort of mentioned them taking a trip to the west coast before. She’d just taken it as a joke, or a throwaway that would never actually happen. Besides, that was before she’d learned about Emily.

“Yes,” she says instantly. “Of course. If you wanted me there, if you needed me there, I would go. In a heartbeat.”

Holtz looks contemplative. “Interesting.”

“Do you think you ever… _would_ be ready to go?”

“A very wise woman once told me that there’s always going to be fear. That I’m always going to be afraid to take the leap because I think I’m not ready.”

Erin nods.

“And,” Holtz says, “I watched the same woman tackle her own fears. Leap even though she was scared. And that inspired me to do the same.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Erin whispers.

“So far…pretty damn good,” Holtz says, a small smile playing on her lips. “No regrets.”

“So…”

“So, we’ll see. I think…if you were there…maybe I could do it. Maybe.”

“That would be brave of you, Holtz.”

“Pretty crazy, too.”

Erin laughs lightly. “Yeah, pretty crazy.”

“You’d be there to stop me if I tried to steal her again, right?”

“Holtzmann.” Erin covers her mouth to try and hide her shock. She’s kidding, right?

Holtz’s mouth twitches. “What? It’s been a decade, I’m allowed to joke about it now. It’s called coping.”

“As long as you didn’t joke about it in front of her dads, then yes.”

“See? You’d be there to stop me from doing that, too.”

Erin joins Holtz and extends her hands. Holtz grabs them a second later. Erin squeezes tight. “Yes, Holtz, I’d be there to stop you from putting your foot in your mouth. And for moral support.”

“And so I can introduce you as my super hot girlfriend to my brother and his family.”

Erin blushes. “That too.”

“A lot to consider,” Holtz says.

A lot to consider, indeed.

 

They stay there for a while, and then, a bit begrudgingly, Holtz drags them over to the door. Erin doesn’t want to let go of her. Not now, not ever. Partly because she doesn’t want the spell to break, for this trip to officially be over, but also because it’s Holtz and she’s in love with her.

“I don’t want to go,” Holtz says, echoing Erin’s thoughts. “Is that weird? We did just spend a week together in very close quarters.”

“No,” Erin says quickly, “I feel the same way. I don’t want this to end.”

They’re silent for a few moments. The refrigerator hums. Someone’s car alarm goes off out on the street.

“You could stay,” Erin blurts. Then she backpedals. “I mean…crap. I’m sure you want to sleep in your own bed after so many nights—”

“I’d rather sleep in yours,” Holtz says smoothly.

Erin flushes. “Really?”

“For sure. I’ve got everything I need in our trusty backpack.” Holtz nudges it with her toe where it sits on the floor to prove her point.

“I thought you didn’t need anything?” Erin quips. “Sleep naked and brush your teeth with your finger? Or was that all talk and no walk?”

Holtz flashes a full, toothy grin. “Oh, I never would’ve actually done that. I just wanted to see if you would.”

Erin laughs. Of course she did. “You’re horrible.”

“Yeah, but you loooove me anyway.”

“I do,” Erin says. “Are you ever going to stop teasing me about that?”

“Only until I feel the same and I have to be gross and mushy in return. I’m milking my time before then, though.”

It’s the first time that Holtz has acknowledged the possibility of loving Erin back sometime down the road. Erin’s heart flutters at the prospect. She doesn’t really know what to say to that. She bites her lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

Holtz nods.

Erin leans in to press a long kiss to Holtz’s lips and sighs a little as she does. She was a bit off, before, when she said kissing Holtz felt like coming home after a long trip. It’s better. So much better. Holtz _doesn’t_ smell a little funky, a little stale. Or maybe she does, but Erin just doesn’t care. She meant it, what she said to Holtz the previous day. She could probably do anything shy of murder and Erin would still be in love with her. How did that happen? And why doesn’t it scare Erin?

“ _Definitely_ no regrets,” Holtz mutters against her lips, probably talking to herself.

“I’m glad,” Erin murmurs back.

“How could I regret you?” Holtz says, then she joins their lips together again.

Erin’s entire body feels warm, like they’re still out in the sun. Maybe she’s sunburnt. She wouldn’t be surprised.

It’s okay, the pain would be worth it. 100%.

Eventually, Erin gets another wave of fatigue and pulls away from Holtz. She yawns again.

“Should we go to bed?” Erin says. “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty exhausted. And I’m looking forward to wearing pajamas that fit me.”

Holtz laughs. “Oh, please. You know I wore the huge pair more than you did. Took one for the team.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that. Only because you’re the idiot who bought them.”

“Hey. Who’s to say I didn’t get that size on purpose just to get a rise out of you?”

“Right, right, of course. Obviously. How could I have not seen that before?” Erin’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“You were distracted checking me out, that’s why.”

Erin snorts. “Yes, that’s what happened.”

“That’s _exactly_ what happened. Don’t worry, I was checking you out too.” Holtz winks. “Especially in that dress of yours. I mean… _damn_. I really was talking about your attractiveness the whole time, not the weather. The sun has nothing on you.” Her smile blossoms into a full-on smirk. She looks so pleased with herself.

Erin wants to kiss that stupid smirk off her face, so that’s exactly what she does, after hovering an inch away from Holtz’s lips for half a second and waiting for her small nod of permission.

She finally pulls away, a little breathless. “Okay, yes. Stop distracting me. Sleep, now?”

“Lead the way, triple play” Holtz says with a soft smile. “I’m right behind you.”

So Erin does.

  
_they say we’re crazy_

_it’s who we are_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! And what a trip it has been, pun fully intended. I hope you enjoyed this ride as much as I did, and I hope all the suffering was worth it in the end? Let me know if you think so. And! If you have any questions or things you're wondering about, or want to know more about something, ask me! I'm happy to talk a LOT more about this 'verse. :D
> 
> Also, a few things: 1) I posted a moodboard thingie for this fic [on Tumblr](http://jillbert.tumblr.com/post/161032859004/love-is-a-polaroid-better-in-picture-but-never), so check that out (especially if you want visuals for, let's say, Holtz's hot pink parachuting shirt. 2) I also posted [an alternate playlist](http://jillbert.tumblr.com/post/161066701969/never-can-fill-the-void-listen-its-time) that features LESS Imagine Dragons than the official lineup (but still some because I'm trash). Each song roughly corresponds with a chapter.
> 
> Lastly, I've started a new fic! It's called [all the love I never gave (before I left you)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11000574/chapters/24504501) and chapter one is up now! In one sentence: It's a slow burn childhood friends to lovers AU heavily based in canon. Very different from this fic, but I hope you like it anyway.
> 
> Anyway, that's all for this fic! Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and...well, you never know what this 'verse might ƎVOLVE (6/23) into. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on [Tumblr](http://jillbert.tumblr.com) for behind-the-scenes thoughts while I write this, and follow [Jillian](http://lil-peanutt.tumblr.com) too because she's been an amazing beta for this as always!


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